


Empire of Our Own

by summerhuntresses, vyoria



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Except it isn't set in Rome, F/F, I mean a lot of violence, I'm keeping a body count, Mentions of Rape, Roman Empire AU, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2018-03-16 11:19:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 45,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3486284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerhuntresses/pseuds/summerhuntresses, https://archiveofourown.org/users/vyoria/pseuds/vyoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke is the daughter of a Councillor of Arcam, Lexa a slave thrown into the Arena. When the two collide, plans are set in motion that will leave the entire world reeling in their wake. </p><p>Or, </p><p>The Clexa Roman Empire AU that isn't actually set in Rome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. we fly with kings tonight

**Author's Note:**

> You can find vyoria on tumblr at victoriancuddler, and me at summerhuntresses. We encourage both reviews and messages praising our genius and offering tribute. In regards to historical accuracy, my defense is that this isn't actually in Rome, merely in a world that is based off Rome, so any inaccuracies can be attributed to that. 
> 
> Oh, and we're aiming to update about twice a week.

“This is insanity, Indra!” Lexa heard Abby slam her hands against the table. “You’re asking us to declare war on Gelus. They’re the biggest trade partner we have, they outnumber us three to one, and let’s not forget that _they haven’t done anything to us!_ ”

Lexa winced, imagining the glare that Indra must have turned on the other woman. “Haven’t done anything to us? They have sent raiding parties all across the outer reaches of Arcam! I have lost eleven scouts in the last six months, and they have essentially annexed the northern territories! We need to move _now_ , before they can get even more of a foothold than they already have.”

The sound of a sigh drifted through the door. Exasperation bled into Jaha’s voice as he spoke. “Enough of this. You bring this up at every meeting, Indra, but you know where I stand on this. Arcam is a peaceful nation. We will not adopt a policy of aggression. Have I made myself clear?”

Lexa grinned to herself; she could feel the shift in the air. It was almost time. Absently she checked over her weaponry, adjusting her sword slightly before squaring her shoulders and breathing deeply in anticipation.

There was a noise from within the council chamber, cloth shifting over smooth steel. Lexa heard the muffled clank that she imagined was Indra’s armor lightly striking the tabletop as she stood.

“Indra, what-?” Abby’s voice was perplexed, but free of any of the nerves that would indicate foreknowledge of what was about to occur.

Lexa glanced to her right, glancing at Clarke standing off to the side. The smile she wore was serene, as calm and unconcerned as if she were merely strolling through the marketplace. It sent a twist roiling through Lexa’s stomach, heat pooling low and nearly distracting her from what was to come. Indra’s voice wrenched her attention back to the events at hand, thoughts of Clarke forced to the back of her mind.

“This is your final decision?” The words held an unusual weight, one that Jaha seemed to miss entirely.

He huffed. “ _Yes_ , Indra, that is my final decision. We will not go to war!”

Lexa imagined Indra’s face, how it would have hardened to stone, Jaha’s answer clearing the last lingering doubts from her conscience. Her voice held a note of finality, the death knell ringing over the last moments of Jaha’s rule. “Then you have sealed your fate.”

Lexa nodded to the footmen. This was her cue.

In unison they threw open the doors to the council chamber. Lexa strode in at the head of the guard, one hand on the hilt of her sword. She looked straight at Jaha, trusting the others to ensure the compliance of the council.

She came to a halt three feet from the head of the table, eyes not wavering from the chancellor. His face was confused and slightly alarmed, but not overly so. _Good_ , Lexa thought. Less initial alarm meant less resistance.

“Thelonious Jaha, under the authority of the Regia of Arcam, you are hereby sentenced to die for the crime of treason against the nation. You will come now to be placed in holding awaiting your execution.”

Gasps came from along the table, some genuine, some obviously forced. Lexa kept her gaze on Jaha, gauging his reaction. His face was a mask of shock, incredulity obvious in his eyes.

A crash sounded from behind her as Abby stood quickly, chair toppling to the ground unheeded in her haste. “What nonsense is this? Who _dares_ …” Her voice trailed off, fury seeming to rob her of words.

Lexa bestowed a flat glare on her, betraying none of the roiling excitement she felt. Anticipation swelled, her heart racing. Footsteps rang out from the corridor and all eyes turned to the door.

Clarke entered casually, strolling in with no care for the tension in the air. She glided through the room, taking no notice of either councilors or soldiers. Looking at her and the unconcerned air she gave off, Lexa could believe that they were the only two people in the room were it not for the ripple of heads bowing as she passed.

An eyebrow arched when she drew level with Lexa, glancing disinterestedly at Jaha. The meaning was as clear to Lexa as if Clarke had shouted, and without hesitation she drew her sword and slammed the hilt against Jaha’s skull. She kept the blow relatively light, wanting him merely dazed, not unconscious or dead. Grasping his arm forcefully, she bodily wrenched the man from his throne and forced him to kneel, out of the way but still within her line of sight.

Clarke ignored the moaning man, running a hand gently across the top of the ornate throne, caressing it as if it were a lover. Lexa swallowed, eyes following those long fingers with the intensity of a hawk. The blonde circled the chair completely before relaxing into the seat, arranging herself into a lazy sprawl with one leg hooked over an arm of the throne.

Ice blue eyes turned to the council, silent with shock and disbelief. Lexa shifted to stand slightly behind the throne, naked sword in her hand sending a clear message to everyone in the room. Clarke watched for a moment more before breaking the silence.

“Hello, mother.”

Her softly-spoken words broke the spell the room had fallen under. Some of the council, those who had not already converted, broke into a chorus of shouting, each one trying to be heard over the rest. Lexa stiffened, the sudden explosion of noise startling her hand into clenching tighter around her sword. Clarke still appeared supremely unruffled, however, so Lexa funneled her tension into scanning the room for threats.

Threats which appeared not ten seconds later as one of the generals – Quint, if Lexa remembered correctly – stood abruptly, leaning forward and gesturing angrily at Clarke. Lexa’s eyes narrowed, but she remained in place, knowing that this moment was utterly critical for Clarke. Any sign of disunity, a lack of control even at the smallest level, could be the straw that broke them, the catalyst for loyalists to dispute Clarke’s authority.

The other councilors, those who had not been approached beforehand, gained confidence from Quint’s defiance and began to stand as well, one by one joining him in opposition. Abby was among them, her voice managing to carry above the commotion. She quickly quieted the group, shushing them and turning towards her daughter. “Clarke, what are you doing? I know you’ve been bored lately, what with all these meetings, but now really isn’t a good time for games.” The woman got nothing but a blank stare from the blonde, but behind her Lexa stared incredulously at the woman. She had assaulted the chancellor only minutes before and Abby thought Clarke was playing a _game?_

Sighing, Abby looked at the warriors surrounding the room. Her eyebrows furrowed as she began recognizing them. When her gaze reached Lexa, her brow relaxed and she laughed. “I see. You got your friends to join your game? This is cute, Clarke, really it is, but now is not the time.”

The continuing lack of response from her daughter drove Abby to turn to Lexa. “All right, I get that you were humoring Clarke, but this needs to end now.” Lexa didn’t respond, and Abby’s face darkened. “Let me be very clear. You belong to me, not my daughter. I’m willing to overlook the stolen armor, I’ll even ignore the weapons, but I will not stand for willful disobedience, daughter’s orders or not. This ends _now._ ”

Clarke tapped one finger against the table, drawing Lexa’s attention, before nodding gently. Lexa caught Octavia’s eye and tipped her head at Quint. The other girl drew her blade, then promptly sheathed it in Quint’s chest.

The man choked, blood spraying from his lips to spatter the councilors standing across from him. He looked downward in disbelief, hands coming up to gently touch the length of steel protruding from his chest. He looked up once more, meeting Clarke’s eyes before Octavia yanked her blade back. He collapsed back into his chair, sightless eyes staring at the ceiling, in a gruesome caricature of respect.

“Sit.”

The command was quiet, but had an undercurrent of steel. The challengers complied, horrified stares fixed on the corpse that had replaced one of their brethren.

Clarke fixed her gaze on her mother. “Under the eyes of this council, Chancellor Jaha has been allowed to drive Arcam to the very brink of annihilation. He has willfully and stubbornly disregarded every sign, signal, and warning conveyed to him and chosen instead to keep this nation on a path that will find us all dead beneath a Gelusian sword within the year.” She threw a withering glare at the kneeling man. “I have chosen to prevent that. This council holds the authority to invest a new sovereign if the old one dies without having named an heir. Since Jaha has none, I see no issue with my appointment.”

A scoff from the far side of the table drew the attention of the entire room. Diana Sydney, one of the independent councilors, sneered at Clarke. “Chancellor Jaha has a named heir, silly girl. You grew up with him. Have you forgotten him already?” A surge of rage, white-hot and deadly, shot through Lexa. The arrogant, disdainful look the woman was sending at Clarke made Lexa want to cut her eyes from her head in retaliation for her disrespect. She would ask Clarke for her life later, and would enjoy seeing it fade from her eyes.

Clarke shook her head sadly. “How could I forget my oldest playmate? It was tragic, really. _Such_ an unfortunate accident.” She turned to Jaha, razor-sharp and brutal. “But we shouldn’t discuss the gory details here. Jaha doesn’t need to know the kind of pain he was in, silver tongue cut from his head and talented fingers shattered, or how he choked on his own blood for _hours_ before he finally died.” Her gaze snapped back to the council, all traces of harshness gone, only that calm happiness left. “And anyway, we have an investment to get to.”

Abby looked like she was in shock. Her skin was chalk-white and her gaze was unfocused, and when she spoke, her voice was distant. “But how can we have an investment if we already have a reigning chancellor?”

With a roll of her eyes, Clarke responded. “How do you _think_ , mother?”

Abby’s eyes sharpened at that. “Clarke, you can’t kill your way to the top!”

“Why not?” Clarke looked genuinely confused for a moment before smirking. “You did.”

The breath flew from Abby’s lungs in a rush. Lexa almost thought that she had been struck by an invisible assailant. The thought cheered her. She heard Bellamy snort softly from his position by the doors.

Clarke smirked. “Lexaaaa…” she crooned, dragging the word out slowly. Lexa’s entire body convulsed, a full-body shiver rolling up her spine at the honey-sweet tone of the word. She cleared her throat softly, pointedly not looking at Octavia as she did so. Clarke was relentless, though. “Lexa, the traitor has something of mine.” She turned around in her seat, pouting playfully up at Lexa. “Fetch it for me?”

Lexa dipped her head. “As you command, Regia.” She ignored Abby’s muted gasp, taking two steps and raising her sword. A couple of the independent councilors shouted, realizing her aim, but it was no use. Her sword fell, a graceful arc of silver that ended in crimson red. Jaha’s head fell with a thud, shock still apparent on his face. Lexa sheathed her sword, heedless of the blood that clung to its length, and stooped to pluck the crown from where it had fallen in the middle of the quickly spreading pool of blood.

Blood dripped gently from it, giving the gold a liquid shimmer. Lexa turned back to Clarke and slowly, reverently, settled the crown on her brow. She stepped back and looked at her, lounging casually on the throne, crown on her brow and streaks of red like war paint dripping down her face. She was like one of the god-queens of old, powerful and implacable, demanding sacrifice on pain of death.

Lexa took a step back and dropped to her knees, hearing the rest of the room do the same. She took a breath, preparing herself for the words she was about to utter – words that would leave the world irrevocably changed.

“Hail, Clarke Griffin, Regia of Arcam, Imperatrix of the Twelve Territories! _Long live the queen!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (vy here) I would just like to add that I was elevated to the position of co-author just so I can be an ass on the author's note :D


	2. the place where life begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eighteen months earlier.

Lexa drifted in a sea of darkness, peaceful and quiet. There was no light, and no sound, but it didn’t alarm her. Nothing alarmed her, actually. She was content just to drift.

Later, what could have been infinity or an instant, faint noises made their way into her awareness. They were muffled and indiscernible so Lexa ignored them, letting the drift consume her.

A shock of cold, all over her, yanked her from the darkness. The cold was in her mouth, in her throat, she couldn’t _breathe, why couldn’t she breathe-_

She was yanked bodily upwards and something struck her between the shoulder blades, forcing a gasp from her mouth. She immediately doubled over in a coughing fit, trying to clear her lungs – _water_ , her mind whispered, _cold water thrown while you slept_.

Cracking her eyelids tentatively, she was met with brightness, but not so much that it was intolerable. Blinking to clear her vision, she surveyed her surroundings.

The overwhelming impression she got was ‘bleak’. Stone walls, dirt floors, and chains bolted into every available surface. The man standing above her only furthered that impression, dirt covering every inch of his massive frame. Dark eyes twinkled at her from under a fringe of filthy braids, the merriment in them only serving to unnerve her more.

A sharp throbbing in her skull chose that moment to make itself known. Reflexively she clutched the back of her head, hand making it there successfully but taking with it a length of dull chain attached to a manacle around her wrist. Lexa blinked dumbly at it, brain not fully comprehending what her eyes were telling her.

The giant man barked out a laugh, startling Lexa into jumping. This only exacerbated the pounding in her head, and she glared at the giant. He chuckled again. “Oh, you’ve got some fight in you, do you? That’s good.”

Lexa furrowed her brow, completely confused and getting more alarmed by the minute. “Where-” A harsh coughing fit cut her off. Her throat was on _fire_.

A cup of water was thrust under her nose, grimy hand dwarfing it. She grabbed it and drank greedily, pausing for another, lesser fit before draining it. The man snatched the cup back and grabbed her wrist, dragging her to her feet.

Standing, Lexa could see that the man had at least a foot of height on her. He looked her over, eyeing her critically before spinning her roughly. Normally Lexa would have protested such rough treatment, probably by means of a blow to the nose, but she was aching, scared, and off-balance. Besides that, she had no idea where she was or what the man wanted; he could likely kill her with one hand if she drove him to it. No, better to wait and observe. _For now, at least._

The man grunted dismissively and released her. Lexa turned back around, rubbing her wrist where he had gripped her. He gave her one more appraising look before clapping his hands. “Congratulations, little lamb. You have been selected to compete for fame and glory in the Arena of Arcam! Your new life begins today. You have been given the opportunity to fight for the amusement of the Chancellor himself, so fight well and he may spare your life.” The door to the room – _cell,_ Lexa realized – opened to admit another man, carrying what looked like leather armor with a sword laid on top.

Lexa went cold. She had heard of Arcam’s famed Arena, everyone in the Twelve Territories had. They were just horror stories, though, tales told to children over a roaring fire to make them jump. They weren’t supposed to be _true_.

Unbidden, her mind turned to her memories of what had occurred before she had been so abruptly roused. It had been a normal day, Lexa, Anya, and Costia in the marketplace. They had talked and laughed as they strolled down the wide street, calling greetings to merchants they recognized and Anya teasing the two of them gently whenever they would trade kisses, but then-

Her eyes widened.

Then there had been chaos, sudden and terrifying. Armed men came out of nowhere, brandishing swords and whips and nets, and _oh_ how the people had screamed. Lexa had grabbed onto both Anya and Costia and dragged them away, running from the barbarians that were butchering her people. It had been futile, though. They had run directly into a knot of the bastards and had been captured with ease.

The three of them had been grabbed, and Anya and Costia had been chained up quickly. Anya had been murderous but hadn’t tried to resist, and Costia? Costia had just looked terrified. It had been when one of the men had groped her crudely through her dress that Lexa had exploded.

She couldn’t remember much of the several minutes following, but once the red haze had receded from her vision she was in chains and the brute who had touched Costia was nursing a broken nose. He had struck her, then grabbed Costia and-

Lexa’s eyes slammed shut and she moaned, low and agonized. He had _violated_ her, grinning as she screamed, taking pleasure in Costia’s agony and Lexa’s anguish. Lexa had struggled, she had fought her hardest to escape her chains and destroy the man on top of her beloved, but in vain. He had finished quickly, rutting like an animal, and after he was done he had severed her head like it was nothing.

The anguish Lexa felt at that memory was sudden and overwhelming. It rushed through her like a storm, sending bolts of lightning sizzling through her veins.

Anya had been next. They hadn’t raped her, they had played with her, slowly beating her to death while Lexa struggled and screamed. She fought and fought, tearing her wrists to the bone beneath the shackles, but Anya had died in agony nonetheless. The last thing she remembered was one of the men spitting on her before striking her with his sword hilt before waking up in the cell.

The giant was still observing her. “Ah, you’ve heard of the Arena then? Good. That saves me time. You get the idea, then. Fight. Try not to die. You start in an hour. Any questions?” He shoved the armor into her shocked arms, forcing her to fumble with the sword before it fell and severed one of her toes.

She blinked. “Will there be no training?” She looked over the sword in her arms. It was… sharp. Sharp and silver. That was the extent of her knowledge on the subject, however.

“Training’s for gladiators, lamb. You’re just the warm-up act.” He turned on his heel, final words trailing behind him as he headed for the door. “Get dressed. Someone will collect you when it’s your turn to fight.”

Lexa looked back to the sword. It was still sharp. It was also still silver.

~~~

Clarke leaned forward in her seat, eyes trained eagerly on the fighters below. One of them, the one armed with the short sword, had stumbled and fallen, sword lost in his fall. The other was closing fast, net lost early in the fight and trident held ready. Clarke could read the currents of the fight and knew that the end was near. The swordsman scrambled backwards, crabwalking as fast as he could from the other, but to no avail. The trident raised, Clarke’s breath quickened, and crimson sprayed across the sand, causing her hands to clench in excitement as her heart raced.

Clarke loved the Arena. The feeling of urgency, the rawness of the fights where the only goal was survival at any cost, the inevitable end to each bout – all of it excited Clarke, set her heart beating triple time and lit her blood on fire. It was rare that she got the opportunity to attend, as her mother was often busy with her spot on the Council and refused to let Clarke attend on her own, but when she did it left her in a good mood for weeks.

From Clarke’s right she heard the Chancellor’s voice, displeasure evident in his tone. “She should have waited for my judgment. Impressive though she is, she does not have the authority to decide who lives and who dies.” Clarke raised an eyebrow and reevaluated the survivor, mistaken in her assumption that she was a man. How… _delicious_.

A glance at Jaha derailed her thoughts from the lecherous path they were turning to. The dark-skinned man’s face was stormy, his displeasure obvious for all to see.

Internally Clarke rolled her eyes. No leader should be that affected by minor mistakes, and should especially never show how it affected him. In _public_ , no less. She really had no idea how Jaha had ever managed to get himself elected. He had no understanding of how a leader should act, much less about proper behavior. It had been a minor miracle that the Ambassador of Fluvia hadn’t declared war after the Saturnalia the year before.

She watched impassively as her mother calmed him, murmuring what Clarke was sure were little words meant to soothe his wounded pride into his ear. Her eyes narrowed minutely. Her father had only been in the ground six months and already Abby was hanging all over the Chancellor. _I shouldn’t be surprised, really_.

The clank of the gate being raised drew her attention back to the Arena. Most of the capitol preferred the professional fights, the ones where trained gladiators battled for fame and favor, but she enjoyed these days far more. Untrained, desperate slaves hacking away at each other with sword, spear, sometimes even their bare hands. It was intoxicating, watching them struggle to survive, brutal and vicious as they did everything they could to snuff the life from their opponent.

Frankly, it was arousing, and on more than one occasion Clarke had snuck down to the barracks to rent one of the slaves for the night. She hoped to find one that caught her eye in the pit today. She glanced at her mother, still draped over Jaha. Maybe she would find two. Maybe she would even buy one. Wouldn’t _that_ be something, getting herself a pleasure slave without her mother even knowing.

Arena slaves scurried onto the hot sands and dragged the body away, tossing a water skin to the victor. The game today was a particularly brutal one, a round robin of sorts where the winner just kept going from one match to the next. They were forced to defend themselves without pause, fighting until they died for the amusement of the ruthless crowd.

Clarke _loved_ it.

The winner drained the skin, tossing it aside contemptuously as a tiny figure, a girl from what Clarke could see, stumbled out onto the sand. From the glare she tossed back towards the passage it was fairly easy to figure that she had been pushed. Clarke looked the new fighter over, noticing the tentative way she was moving and the awkward way she handled her sword. It was obvious that she had no training whatsoever, and Clarke would wager that she was injured on top of that. Still, there was spirit there, under the dirt and that god-awful armor.

She leaned towards Jaha. “Ten denarii says she makes it three bouts before dying.” The two of them had made a habit of betting on the outcomes of slave fights, and Jaha had lost a significant amount of gold to her.

His eyes lit up. “Done.”

 _He never learns_. Clarke settled back in her seat to watch, Jaha’s raised hand signaling the beginning of the match.

It was everything Clarke had hoped it to be, brutal and barbaric and harsh. At first the previous victor and her long trident seemed to have the clear advantage, the swordswoman expending all her energy merely avoiding its sharp thrusts. The tables turned when the swordswoman managed to dive closer, effectively neutralizing the trident’s advantage. Before the other fighter could react, the swordswoman had charged straight into her, toppling her and placing her sword to her throat.

The fighter looked up at Jaha, seeking his decision on the fight’s outcome. Clarke could see the residue of his previous insult in the slow way he tilted his thumb down, dragging out the torment for the doomed woman. The new victor didn’t hesitate, and was not kind. She ended the bout with a vicious slash that very nearly cut the other woman in half.

Clarke said nothing as blood pooled on the sand, but the smugness radiating from her did not need words. She _liked_ this little fighter, who had a warrior’s spirit contained in her small, beaten body. She truly hoped that the woman would survive the day. Who knows, if she kept up a showing like the last, Clarke might even go through with her half-formed ideas of buying herself a slave.

~~~

Lexa panted harshly, each breath burning her lungs, sweat stinging as it dripped into the myriad of wounds she’d picked up over the last who-knew-how-many fights. She had lost count after the fourth, when her opponent had managed to score a long line across her ribs. It was fortunately shallow, but it pulled with every movement and sent a burst of pain through her. After that it had just been a blur of pain and steel and sand, and she was honestly shocked that she was still alive.

The gate rattled once more and she moaned lowly, uncertain of how much longer she could keep going. She wasn’t even sure _why_ she was still fighting, why she hadn’t just cast her sword away and allowed one of the others to send her off to see her family again. _Costia…_ The thought of her fate sent despair shooting through her, but still she straightened to meet the oncoming fighter.

Her eyes widened at the sight of him. Utterly massive, leather straps wrapping around his bare chest, he was terrifying. _Oh gods, they’re making me fight a bear. I thought that slaves weren’t a part of animal fights?_ The nonsensical thought drifted through her mind right before he roared and charged her, axe raised.

The next several moments were a blur before a starburst of pain exploded in her chest and she was lifted from her feet and flung through the air. She landed with a crash, stars swimming in her eyes, but was conscious enough to realize that this was the end. _Costia, Anya, I’ll see you soon_.

There was no immediate end to her life, she could hear the giant calling to the crowd, trying to curry their favor in the hopes of… Lexa honestly had no idea. Maybe he was hoping to be bought, maybe get picked up by a gladiatorial school, maybe he was just hoping that when his turn came to be under the axe, Jaha would spare him. Whatever his reasoning, it was giving her time to think, and Lexa really didn’t appreciate it.

Images flashed across her eyes, visions of Costia and her mother and Anya and their father and happier days gone by. These were soon replaced by the memory of that final day, the one that had begun with such joy but ended in devastation. The faces of the men who had murdered her sister, had raped her lover, swam before her, interspersed with Costia’s severed head and Anya’s broken body, thrown away like so much offal as soon as it was of no more amusement.

Rage began to pool in her gut, fury at the world that had taken so much from her. She wanted to make them suffer, the men who had laughed as she screamed. They _needed_ to suffer.

 _I’m sorry, my love. We will be together again, but not on this day_.

She clawed her way off the ground, swaying on her feet, and searched for her sword. It was in front of her, in front of the giant, utterly unreachable unless she wanted to give up the element of surprise. With a shrug, she ran forward silently, hoping against hope that the giant wouldn’t turn around before she reached him.

The gods were on his side, and with a shriek she launched herself at him, legs wrapping around his waist as she clung to his back. Her arms went around his throat and tightened, every ounce of strength she had left going into her stranglehold. He choked and flailed, reaching around in an attempt to unseat her, but in vain. His muscles worked against him, limiting his range of motion and allowing Lexa to maintain her chokehold.

All of a sudden Lexa was airborne once more, but this time when she landed she had three hundred pounds of musclebound slave on top of her. The breath was driven from her lungs and her vision dimmed, blackness threatening to creep in.

She wheezed, trying to regain her breath, and saw the furious face of the man above her, axe poised to decapitate her as soon as the Chancellor gave the signal. Turning her head as far as she could, she searched for the box once more, morbidly curious to see the face of the man who would order her death.

She had seen him before, of course, as he condemned slave after slave to death, not sparing a single one. Lexa expected to see the same look of boredom on his face now, thumb pointing to the ground before she saw nothing at all. It came as a surprise to her to see a blonde girl leaning towards him, speaking quickly into his ear. The man listened for a few moments before nodding, smiling at the girl and grasping her outstretched hand. He didn’t shake it as he would a man’s, instead turning it over and kissing the back of it. Lexa was vaguely intrigued by the faint grimace that crossed the blonde’s face before it was hidden behind a mask of serenity.

The Chancellor returned his attention to the Arena, hand extending and staying level for a moment before miraculously tipping upwards. Lexa gaped, disbelieving. She was going to live? She had expected death, had anticipated entering the void without being able to uphold her incredibly recent vow of vengeance. This was… There were no words, but she sent a prayer of gratitude to the gods for protecting her.

The giant glared at her, lowering the axe with great reluctance. She dragged herself to her feet, gingerly pressing a hand to her side, feeling for broken ribs. A stab of pain informed her that yes, she did indeed have several. An arena slave exited the gate, tossing a water skin to the giant and motioning her back through the gate. She followed obediently, unsure of what awaited her now that she had survived the day.

Would she be expected to continue fighting? Would they train her, now that she had proven herself? Or would she be sold at the auction block, meat that would go to the highest bidder. She knew there was no chance of her gaining her freedom. That would be a waste of money, and by all accounts the nobles of Arcam cared about nothing so much as money.

The slave gestured her into a room she hadn’t seen before. It was large and well-furnished, rugs and tapestries concealing the crude nature of the building.

Footsteps from behind her caught her attention. The doors swung open once more, and through them her fate entered the room.

~~~

Clarke had watched the small woman fight with utter fascination. There was such potential there, both for battle and… other things as well. After the woman’s fifth fight, where she ripped her opponent’s throat out with her teeth after losing her sword, she was almost convinced. Her last fight, her eighth, cemented Clarke’s decision.

The woman had been beaten. Her giant of an opponent had smashed her full force in the chest with the flat of his axe. Clarke had seen her feet leave the ground, and she knew that there was no way the woman would get back up, not with the injuries she had already received. For a moment it seemed that that was to be the end of it. A flicker of emotions Clarke couldn’t make out had passed over the woman’s face, but then…

Then. Then she had done the impossible and stood up. Then she had attacked the other man, the man who stood over a foot above her and weighed easily two hundred pounds more, attacked him with nothing but her spirit and her bare hands.

Clarke had known that she would lose. There was simply no way around it, and the thought of that fierce, determined spirit being snuffed out without ever having a chance to truly shine gave her a strange feeling in her stomach. A sudden image filled her mind, the woman wearing true armor, the kind that only the elites of the army wore, war paint smeared across her face, naked sword in one hand dripping blood. Clarke could see this woman fighting for her, and abruptly she was filled with _want._ She wanted this woman, as a soldier and as a lover.

Leaning over to Jaha, she had offered to forgive the debt he owed her in return for mercy. The gold was trivial, really, just a formality. She knew Jaha would grant her her wish. He had never been able to truly deny her anything.

He had proved her right only moments later, and she had offered her hand to clasp. It had been difficult to hide the disgust she felt when he kissed it instead of shaking it, but she had long ago learned to ignore small slights like that. She added it to the ledger in her head, one more tally against Jaha among hundreds.

Rising, Clarke assured her mother that she was fine, there was nothing wrong, she was merely taking a walk to shake off the lethargy that came from sitting in one place for too long. Reassured, Abby let her go, and Clarke made a beeline for the barracks.

A slave met her at the entrance, bowing low and escorting her to the master of the facility. It had been remarkably easy to hammer out a deal for the slave – _Lexa,_ Clarke had learned, _her name is Lexa_ – and within ten minutes she was being escorted to the meeting room they kept for exactly this purpose, two hundred denarii poorer but filled with a strange excitement.

Two slaves swung open the doors as she approached, and she strode through them quickly, eager to meet the woman who filled her with such unusual hope with her fighting.

Green eyes met her, filled with fire. Clarke could read so many things in those eyes, but chief among them was uncertainty. She could understand that. It must be unnerving, knowing that your future was not in your own hands.

She waved a hand absently, dismissing the slave who had brought her. He bowed, and with a soft murmur of ‘domina’ backed out of the room. The doors swung closed, and she was alone with her new slave – her new _Lexa_.

Looking at the woman, Clarke frowned. It was apparent that she had been dragged straight from the sand without even the chance to have her wounds looked at. Clarke made a mental note to have a talk with the manager about proper treatment of the slaves. From what she could see under the blood and dirt, though, the woman – _Lexa,_ she had to remember that – was stunning. Dark, lean, and utterly enchanting, even down to the wary set of her shoulders. Clarke was entranced.

Lexa shifted on her feet, grimacing slightly as she put pressure on one foot. Clarke frowned again and gestured at a chair, pulling another one up for herself. When the woman didn’t move, she rolled her eyes and shoved her gently, the slight force enough to send her toppling. Clearing her throat, she spoke. “My name is Clarke Griffin. You are Lexa, correct?” The woman nodded slowly, never looking away from Clarke’s face.

Well. That kind of intensity could be _very_ distracting. _She really is delicious, in every way so far._

“Let me be blunt. You are a slave, and I have bought you. As such, I am your mistress and what I say, you do. Are you following me so far?” Lexa nodded once more, grudgingly. Clarke could read resentment in her eyes, and it only served to heighten her belief that she had chosen well. “Excellent. As such, I order you to speak freely and without fear when we are in private.”

Lexa’s eyes widened, the order taking her off guard. Her mouth opened, then snapped shut again.

Clarke smiled. “That includes now, you know. I have no use for a simpering fool who will only tell me what I want to hear. I have things I want to do, and you, my dear, might just help me do them.”

Carefully, Lexa spoke. “Domina-”

Clarke cut her off before she could continue. “My name is Clarke. When we’re alone, just the two of us, I ask that you use it.”

Lexa’s eyes narrowed, obviously suspecting a trap. “…Clarke, then. Why did you choose me?” Clarke tilted her head, silently gesturing for her to elaborate. “Out of all the others who fought in the Arena today, you chose me specifically. Why? There were many others who were far more skilled.”

The blonde grinned at her, wide and happy. “Why, Lexa, I chose you because you were the one who got back up. You faced your death, faced impossible odds, and yet you still chose to get up and fight back. That kind of spirit is rare, and I would be a fool to pass it up.”

Lexa stared at her, seemingly speechless. Clarke smiled once more. “If that’s all, we should go. You need a bath desperately, and I would like to get you cleaned up before Abby gets home. She’s going to throw a fit as it is, we might as well avert as much of it as possible.” Lexa didn’t move, still stunned. “What are you waiting for? The future awaits!”

~~~

This woman would be the death of her. This beautiful, baffling blonde, who told Lexa to speak freely and asked that she call her by name, would be the absolute ruin of her.

Lexa didn’t know how she knew that, but she did. There was something about the other woman, about _Clarke_ , that called to her. She wasn’t sure exactly what was going to happen from here on out, but she was with someone who seemed to respect her as a person. At the very least, Clarke had saved her from joining the legions whose blood stained the sand of the Arena. That was enough for Lexa. She had nothing left in the world, after all. Costia was dead, Anya was dead, her home was likely razed to the ground – maybe she could find something new here, in her new puzzle of a mistress.

Maybe Clarke would ask her to fight again. Lexa thought that if it were for Clarke she may enjoy fighting very much indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (vy again): after much screaming and yelling and some unsavory - and unpolite - words against each other, this chapter got made.


	3. our minds are full of freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An introduction, a proposal, and a request.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (just assume every author's note it's me speaking) I like to call this chapter, The One Amber Trolled Me By Giving Me Bits Of Text And Essentially Teasing Me.  
> Hopefully you all get to read the full version

“Welcome to your new home, Lexa.” Clarke stepped through the double doors of the villa, arms sweeping to encompass a gorgeous plaza. Marble columns wrapped around an open-air court, with a fountain burbling cheerfully amidst a tiny jungle of greenery. Benches were sporadically placed on the walkway that hemmed the courtyard, subtle and unobtrusive but still lending a welcoming air to the place.

Looking up Lexa could see the sky visible, sun shining through the open ceiling and making the marble glitter in the light. It was the most beautiful room Lexa had ever seen. She fell in love with it instantly.

She looked back at Clarke, the blonde grinning at the wide-eyed expression she wore. “I take it you approve?” There was no hesitancy in her voice. She _knew_ the villa was stunning, and she _knew_ Lexa would like it. Lexa felt a tug in her gut; Costia had had that same easy confidence.

Lexa shook the thought off. She put on her most earnest expression and looked at Clarke seriously. “This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.” Her eyes began roaming once more, drawn irresistibly back to the beauty surrounding her.

She flinched when Clarke touched her shoulder gently. The blonde didn’t remark on it, just gestured ahead and said, “Come on, there’s a lot more to see.” Lexa eyed her curiously. The girl really was just a bundle of contradictions, someone who had bought her as a slave yet didn’t want her to be a slave, who loved the slave fights yet touched her with such gentleness. It was confusing. Very, very confusing.

Clarke turned them down a corridor, passing two doors before halting at the end of the hall. The room they entered was, once again, gorgeous. The walls were a dark blue, light wood furniture scattered around seemingly at random, and plush golden carpets covering the marble floor. Lexa found herself captivated by the art on the walls, though.

Almost all of it was done with charcoal, obviously by the same artist, and every piece was exquisite. There were some landscapes, forests and rivers and sunsets and fields, and there were some of people, few of whom Lexa recognized. She saw one she thought was the Chancellor, and another of a woman who Lexa vaguely recognized, but the majority were of a man that she had never seen before.

She looked back at Clarke and revised her opinion.

She had never seen him in person, but she could see him in the line of Clarke’s jaw, the curve of her lip, the arch of her nose. “Your father?” The question was asked tentatively, still unsure of Clarke’s request for openness.

The blonde sighed behind her. “Yes. His name was Jake. He was killed six months ago.”

There was no real anger in her voice, only a resigned hardness, but Lexa turned anyway. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

Clarke chuckled softly. “How could you?” She looked intently at Lexa. “I told you to speak your mind and you did. You asked a question – an intelligent question, I’ll add – and I answered you. I like questions. In fact, I heavily encourage them. If we’re going to have the type of relationship I’d like, then total honesty is going to be a necessity on both our parts.”

_Well that isn’t unnerving at all_.

Warily Lexa moved to sit at one of the small tables, momentarily distracted by a half-finished sketch lying flat. It depicted one of the gladiator battles, a horseman versus a spearman. Clarke had captured the exact moment when the spear had entered the horseman’s side, managing to make it both gruesome and beautiful. The terror on the horseman’s face, the naked relief on the other’s, all laid out as plain as day for the viewer’s eye.

She glanced up with an eyebrow raised. “I knew you liked the slave fights, but this… This is gorgeous.” She stroked a finger along the horse’s tiny muzzle, eyes forever stuck in a desperate roll.

Clarke beamed, taking the chair opposite her. “I try. I’ve had a lot of practice, if you couldn’t tell.” Lexa snorted. Clarke paused, cocking her head slightly to the side. “How did you know I like the slave fights?”

Lexa gestured vaguely at the blonde’s body. “It’s obvious, really. You give it away quite easily.”

Clarke stiffened. “Now I know that isn’t true. I have been working on self-control for most of my life, I _know_ there’s no way you could read a thing from my face.”

Nodding, Lexa hurried to reassure her. “Oh, not your face. Your face is fine. Better than fine. Nice, even.” She paused, blushed, and hurried on, ignoring the slight smirk pulling at the corners of Clarke’s lips. “Your body language shows it. It’s not something you can control easily. You were tensed up, leaning forward, clamped down on the armrest of your chair, and that was just in the ten seconds I saw you talking to the Chancellor. When you got down to the barracks, too, you were still worked up. Flushed, heart pounding, pupils blown. Obvious, if you know what to look for. Which… I do.” She trailed off awkwardly.

Clarke was studying her with the most intense look she had ever seen. Swallowing, Lexa forced herself not to fidget, feeling uncannily like a mouse being surveyed by a hawk who was unsure if it was hungry.

Suddenly a smile broke through the blonde’s examination, lighting up her face like starlight. “Oh, Lexa my dear, you and I are going to have so much _fun_ together.” The blonde bounced slightly in her seat then sobered. “Tell me, Lexa. What do you have that makes life worth living?”

The brunette gaped at her, taken aback by her demeanor and the unexpected question. “I’m… sorry?”

“What do you have to live for? Why do you wake up in the morning, what is your reason for being? _Why_ didn’t you let that man kill you in the Arena?” Clarke was giving her that look again, the one that made her feel like her very soul was being weighed. It was unnerving, but something in her made her feel like the answer she gave now would change the course of her life.

She didn’t answer immediately, wanting to give an answer that was more than just fluff. Thinking back on the last few days, she realized the answer was obvious, if sobering. “Revenge.” She closed her eyes, unwilling to look at Clarke and see her reaction. Lexa knew that it was pathetic, the stuff of clichéd stories and tragic Greek heroes, but it was honestly all she had left. She would find the men who had slaughtered her family and she would kill them in a way that would send shockwaves through even the most hardened soldier’s heart.

Light fingers brushed her cheek, startling her eyes open. Clarke had moved closer to her, looking at her in a way that held no judgment or scorn, merely understanding. “When I found out why my father had died, who was responsible, I went a little mad. I locked myself in my room and raged for days, and once the anger had left my system I swore to myself that I would make his killers _pay_.” She grinned ruefully. “It’s been more than six months and I haven’t gotten very far.”

Lexa frowned. “Is that your way of telling me that revenge is a useless endeavor? That I should abandon it, let my sister, my lover go unavenged?”

Clarke shook her head. “Not at all. What it is is my way of telling you that you have to be smart about it. The only way to truly succeed is to plan. Now tell me your story. If I am able, I will help you.”

Lexa hesitated, thought _what the hell_ , and told her everything.

~~~

Clarke’s face betrayed nothing, but internally she was raging. One of the only things her father had left in her was a visceral hatred for rape. She could justify and accept nearly every other crime, but rape was merely cruelty for cruelty’s sake, and it disgusted her. Hearing the story of what had happened to Lexa’s lover made her sick, but at the same time it made her more certain that she had chosen well. The brunette would do anything and everything to destroy the slavers, that much was obvious.

A question lingered in her mind, though. Pushing aside the more brutal details of the story, she grabbed one of the loose sheets of paper and drew a series of quick sketches. “You said they had crests on their sleeves?” Lexa nodded. “Was it one of these?”

The other girl examined the paper carefully, and when her eyes widened Clarke had her answer. “That one.” Lexa pointed at one of the more basic crests on the page.

Clarke grinned humorlessly. She was familiar with that particular company of mercenaries. Her plan was coming together so nicely, she could swear the gods had a hand in it.

“That particular emblem belongs to a mercenary company that calls itself the Bronze Foxes. They are solely employed by Chancellor Jaha, nominally to bulk up our border patrols, but in practice their main work comes from stocking the slave pits. They are brutes to a man.” She scoffed. “Not a single one of them can think beyond his own interests, and their commander is the worst of the lot.”

Lexa’s eyes had narrowed once more. “Why are you telling me this? I’m bound to you, now that you’ve bought me. Telling me this is just cruel.” Her arms crossed in front of her, defensive in a way that Clarke needed to soothe.

The blonde left her seat to kneel in front of Lexa. She saw the brunette’s eyes widen in shock at her position and took her hands. “I’m telling you this because I want you to have all the facts before we continue on from here.” She paused and took a deep breath. This was it; this was the point of no return.

“I want to overthrow the Chancellor, and I want you to help me.”

~~~

That was it. That confirmed it.

Clarke was absolutely _insane._

She had to have misheard her. “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” She _had_ to have misheard her. There was no way that this girl, this strange, puzzling blonde girl, was actually proposing high treason.

Clarke smiled. “I want to topple Jaha. He is a corrupt, egotistical man with no understanding of the intricacies of politics and no stomach for hard choices. He will drive this country to ruin, and he _knows it_ , but he does nothing. He doesn’t care about his country or his people, he only cares about his own comfort.” Her eyes hardened. “He killed my father to protect his throne. That is an offense that I will not let stand.”

She looked at Lexa imploringly. “Help me bring him down. You can take your revenge for Anya, for Costia, you can put an end to the entire system that brought about their deaths. Help me change the world, Lexa. Help me remake it.”

Lexa’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly, struck dumb by the magnitude of Clarke’s words. _It’s not possible_ , she thought, _it could never happen_. But when she looked at the blonde, she saw possibility.

Carefully, she asked, “If I were to help you, and if by some miracle we succeeded – who would take over? You?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation, no sense of uncertainty. Clarke meant it completely, and somehow Lexa was okay with the thought. She had no real loyalty to Arcam anyway, if it burned she would not mourn. Clarke could not be worse than some of the mad kings who had reigned in Lignum’s past. Somehow Lexa thought she might not be very bad at all.

Still, she didn’t want to seem too eager. She raised an eyebrow. “This is a very bold proposal, you realize. What’s to stop me taking it straight to the Chancellor, earning my freedom?” She wouldn’t, she thought they both knew that, but appearances must be maintained.

Clarke smirked. Lexa’s stomach jolted. “For one thing, he’d have you executed for betraying your mistress. For another, he would have you executed for lying. If you want a third, you will be leaving this conversation a free woman no matter what your answer is.”

_That_ was a surprise. Lexa had in no way seen that coming. Not for the first time, she thought that Clarke Griffin was absolutely insane. A madwoman with fire in her eyes and the stars in her smile, talking of treason with promises of vengeance and victory woven as if from steel.

“I…” There were no words. This mad, beautiful girl had stolen them all, turned them to dust and blown them away with the force of her conviction. What could she say in the face of such iron certainty? Clarke had absolutely no doubts of what she spoke. Lexa didn’t know what else to say but, “Yes. Yes, Clarke Griffin, I will help you overthrow the Chancellor.” With that pledge she felt something inside her shift, felt Clarke wind around her very soul and anchor herself there with chains of stardust.

~~~

Lexa’s words caused something fierce to build inside her, a roiling burst of heat that started in her chest and quickly grew to encompass her whole body. The sudden conviction behind her words, the feeling that the other girl had put her entire being behind that pledge, that was new. No one had ever truly believed in Clarke before. Even her father had coddled her, afraid that the world would be too much for his little girl. Here, now, this small, fierce woman, this hurricane made flesh, was pledging her life to Clarke.

The feeling was intoxicating, a high that Clarke had never felt before. _If every moment with Lexa feels like this, I’ll never get anything done again._ The thought was idle, crossing the surface of her dazzled mind before vanishing into oblivion.

Lexa was watching her, green eyes staring into her with a sun-sharp intensity. It left Clarke breathless, exposed before that bright gaze. She _wanted_ , suddenly, wanted Lexa to find her worthy of following, and just wanted Lexa.

She couldn’t do anything about the first, but the second…

That she could do something about.

Slowly, carefully, she reached a hand up, curling it around Lexa’s cheek. The brunette’s eyes shuttered, lids dropping slightly and head leaning into the caress. Clarke used that caress to draw the woman down towards her, other hand going to rest on the outside of Lexa’s thigh. Her eyelids fluttered gently, and slid closed completely at the first brush of lips.

It was an incandescent kiss, gentle and soft, almost chaste, but the feel of Lexa against her skin left trails of fire in their wake. Clarke _burned_ , completely and suddenly, lit aflame by this _perplexing_ woman. Clarke had kissed many people in her life, men and woman alike, had even bedded a good number of them, but never had she been as consumed by one kiss as she was now.

A sharp breath left Lexa’s lips and then she pulled back sharply, eyes wide. She lifted shaking fingers to her lips, staring at Clarke in shock. “I… You…” Words escaped her once more. Blinking fiercely, she appeared to draw her jagged edges back together, composing herself admirably. “You say you want this, _us,_ to be based on trust, do you not?”

Clarke nodded, then answered verbally when her silent gesture didn’t seem to be enough. “Yes, more than anything.”

Lexa grimaced. “Then trust me when I tell you that I’m not ready, not yet. Costia died not a week ago, and I met you only hours past. I cannot be with you with my heart, and I will not be with you with only my body. Can you accept that?”

Clarke examined her carefully. She seemed stoic enough, but her skin was pale and her hands trembled minutely. It seemed she had been pushed to the very limits of her endurance, quite understandably. It had been a _very_ long day for her.

She nodded. “I can. Now, let me give you the gist of what I need from you, and then it will be to the baths and to bed for you.” She waited for Lexa’s acknowledgement before continuing. “All right. What I need from you is the appearance of a slave. Though you would be allowed to leave at any time with freeman’s papers, and though I will draw you a wage which we will discuss later, I need you to pretend that you are my body slave. It will keep people from questioning us. A noblewoman and her personal slave attract no attention, however a noblewoman befriending a freed slave is absolutely out of the question. You understand?”

Lexa nodded. “You swear to me that I can leave if I choose?” Clarke dipped her head. “And you’re willing to treat me as an equal in private?” Clarke nodded again. “Then I accept your terms. May we hold off on any more discussion? I believe that fatigue from today’s events has begun to catch up with me.”

Laughing, Clarke stood up and held out her hand for Lexa to grasp. “Up with you, then. Clean yourself up, then sleep. A healer will be waiting once you get out of the bath. Your bedroom is through here, it’s attached to my own. The bath is through that door.”

Lexa grunted and stumbled off in the indicated direction, body finally betraying its weariness to the world. Clarke stood for a moment and contemplated the closed door. This… she had not expected this today. Her plans had been vague, formless things before, but upon seeing Lexa fight, they had crystallized into something tangible, something _real._

She laughed. This girl _inspired_ her, and Clarke had no idea why. Why she saved her, why she freed her, why she let her set terms to their… what. Relationship? Partnership? Whatever the phrase, one thing was certain. Lexa made her lose control in a most unusual way. For the first time in a long, long time Clarke didn’t know what the future held.

At least she’d have her hurricane with her when she found out. A girl forged of sunlight and iron could only make things _fun_.


	4. we're in a world where we all come alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next day, or; Abby finds out about Lexa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We got sidetracked. Horribly so, somehow Amber got this done on schedule. 
> 
> You should all thank her.

Morning dawned with a shimmer of grey light through the window and the sound of rain falling softly. Lexa grumbled unhappily into her pillow for a moment before rolling over to get out of bed. Halfway through her roll, her eyes opened to see a figure looming over her reclined form. She shrieked, throwing herself back the way she had come from and straight off the bed, landing in a crouch and searching around her for a weapon.

Her search was halted when she heard a familiar laugh. Rising slowly, she saw Clarke at the side of her bed, bent over and clutching her sides as she absolutely _howled_. “Oh, my gods, your _face!_ And that scream, oh my gods…” She trailed off into paroxysms of laughter, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.

Lexa scowled and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Is this what I’m to expect now? You stalking me while I sleep?” She really hoped not. Yes, she had essentially sworn her life to this girl the night before, but there were some things that were just crossing a line. Getting stuck with a crazy girl with delusions of grandeur was one thing. She could deal with that. She might even enjoy that. But a crazy girl with delusions of grandeur _and_ stalkerish tendencies? No.

Still chuckling, Clarke shook her head. “No, don’t worry, this isn’t a normal thing for me.” She winked at Lexa. “Unless you want it to be.”

Sighing, Lexa decided that it was too early to deal with any of this. “What is it you want, Clarke?”

Clarke sobered, moving to take a seat on the end of Lexa’s bed. “We need to finish our conversation from last night. I told you the most basic outline of what I intend. Before we introduce you to the world as my new body slave, we’ll need to hammer out the details.” She fidgeted absently with the bedspread, looking slightly nervous.

Lexa squinted at her. She hadn’t expected any kind of uncertainty from her mad girl, just more of the steel from the night before. What she was seeing now, though, looked like Clarke was worried. _Worried about me? Worried that I’ll reject her now that I’ve had a bath and a night’s sleep?_ It was a startling though, putting Clarke in a more human light. She dropped her arms. “All right, but does this have to happen now? Can I at least bathe first?”

To her credit, Clarke did manage to keep her eyes on Lexa’s face. Lexa smirked internally, smug with the knowledge that the girl so obviously wanted her. It was also nice that she was so willing to respect her. From what she knew of the Arcamian nobles, that wasn’t something often found. The girl grimaced sheepishly. “Um, no, actually. There are others in this villa, slaves and such, as well as my _beloved_ mother. You should know what you need to know before running into them.” She dropped her eyes. “My mother is going to be difficult. The more you know, the better prepared you’ll be.”

Sighing dramatically, Lexa flopped back down on the bed, sprawling sideways across it so her head was parallel to Clarke’s thigh. Off the blonde’s raised eyebrow, she said, “What? You came into _my_ bedchamber and interrupted my sleep. My comfort is no cost to you. Now tell me what you need to. We will discuss and then I will bathe.”

~~~

Clarke worried her hands together. It wasn’t that she wasn’t confident, or that she was having second thoughts about her plan, it was just… She was going to have to talk about her father, and that was an open wound that still bled every time she saw Abby.

Glancing down at the brunette next to her, calm gaze trained on her, she swallowed. Lexa had shared her hurts with her, telling her every gruesome detail that had befallen her family. Clarke owed the other girl her truth. If anyone would understand it would be the hurricane lying next to her. She sighed, then began.

“Arcam is ruled by a council of thirteen. Symbolically, this represents the Twelve Territories and Arcam itself, with the Chancellor as the thirteenth. My father was on that council from the time he was seventeen. This council, as well as the generals of the army, advise the Chancellor on all major actions taken by Arcam, as well as handling lesser matters that he does not wish to be disturbed by. There are several actions that may only be authorized by the Chancellor, however. The ability to declare war is among them.”

She paused to make sure Lexa was still following. Those green eyes were still watching her, and for some reason that intent focus was comforting. She took a breath. “Are you aware of the events to the north, on the border of Arcam and Gelus?” Lexa paused, thinking, then shook her head.

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Then allow me to fill in the blanks. I’ll keep it simple. Gelus is Arcam’s largest and most profitable trade partner. The revenue that comes in from them in a year outstrips our next three largest combined. It’s this profit that drives the council to ignore the raiding parties Gelum sends across the border.”

Lexa inhaled sharply and sat up. “They send war parties into Arcam?” Clarke nodded mutely. “That’s an act of war! How can the Chancellor justify doing nothing? Surely the people-”

Clarke cut her off. “The people know nothing. The council makes sure of that. Forcibly, if necessary. Entire villages have been wiped out and attributed to the wilders, when in reality they were slaughtered for the crime of knowing something that Jaha would rather they didn’t.” She smiled bitterly. “My father was opposed to this. He felt that the people had a right to know that they were in danger, especially since in recent years the raids have been getting more daring. People are enslaved, soldiers are killed, towns looted, and Jaha does _nothing_.” She drew a breath. “My father tried to reason with him, tried to make him see the danger we’re in. The Chancellor refused, so my father went behind his back. He organized a group of high-ranking officials, a few of the councilors among them, and formed a plan to force the Chancellor’s hand by revealing the truth to the country.”

She laughed bitterly, passing a hand over her face. No matter how many times she thought about this, the pain never lost its edge. It was a knife’s edge, jagged and rusty, shoved between her ribs. She closed her eyes. “It was a _good_ plan. It probably would have worked, but…”

Lexa had turned over while she spoke, and put a hand on her thigh. She didn’t say anything, but her gaze held warmth. Clarke gathered her composure, needing to get the words out in one go. “They were betrayed. One of their members, a noble who didn’t have a seat on the council, went to Jaha. I am unsure of the exact details of the deal that was struck, but as far as I can tell my father was the only councilor turned over to him. He, along with every other member of the group that didn’t have a council seat, was charged with high treason and publically executed. The other members died quickly, but my father was made an example of, a punishment for his higher rank. They kept him alive for three days before allowing him to die.”

Her gaze was haunted, staring at the wall without seeing. Lexa sat up and put a hand on her shoulder, offering silent support. Clarke grimaced. She had very little strength left for this topic. “The noble who betrayed them was my mother. Three days after his execution, she was awarded the council seat. It was never announced why, but I managed to get inside the Hall of Records. ‘Services to the nation’ is the official reason.” Clarke looked at Lexa. “Two weeks later, she had all but declared her intentions of becoming the next Consort. My father hadn’t been dead a month, but for all anyone knew she and Jaha were madly in love.”

Her hands tightened into harsh fists. “My mother had my father killed for power. Jaha had my father killed for wealth. This I know. I will take from them that which they hold most dear – their power, their money, their status – and when they have nothing left, when they beg at my feet for scraps, then I will take their lives.”

Her eyes were blazing, fury sending the normally cool blue spinning with the fires of war.

“This I swear.”

~~~

Lexa was angry. No, angry wasn’t the word to describe her. She was furious, livid, incandescent in her rage. Family was _everything_ to her people. The idea of betraying your husband for power was utterly repugnant. And to do so with a daughter? To be willing to hurt her in such a way, to betray her and your husband in such a way? To _hurt Clarke_ in such a way?

Abby Griffin should pray to her gods that she never encountered Lexa alone in the dark.

Clarke dashed a hand across her face angrily, sniffling and blinking hard. The sight of the blonde fighting tears so valiantly shook Lexa from the red haze that had taken over her mind and she rolled upright from where she had been lounging. She placed a hand on Clarke’s arm and squeezed gently, trying to offer support and understanding as best she could.

Clarke laughed brokenly. “I’m sorry, I really didn’t want to get like this. It’s just… It’s still fresh, you know?”

Lexa sighed. “I do. Don’t apologize, you have no reason to.”

The blonde smiled at her, tired and sweet. For once there was no hint of steel or fire in it. It was just the smile of a teenage girl who still mourned her father. It was Clarke without any of the masks or defenses or sharp edges that were so present all the time, and Lexa found that this sad, broken girl was utterly beautiful to her.

“You should bathe; my mother will be expecting me for breakfast soon and that will probably be the best time to introduce you.” Lexa blinked, broken from her reverie once more by Clarke’s voice. She nodded silently and fled to the bath chamber, shaken by her last thoughts.

She rushed through her routine, not wanting to be alone with her thoughts for longer than she had to be. There was only so much she could take, and the events of the last few days were quickly taking her to the edge of her tolerance. She stepped from the sunken pool and dressed quickly, allowing her hair to fall wet and curling around her shoulders as she walked hastily back to Clarke’s room.

She had spent her bath alternating between going over her role as a ‘slave’ and thinking about Clarke. Her role was straightforward – she just needed to be respectful and do whatever Clarke or Clarke’s mother said, no matter how distasteful she found the idea of allowing Abby to give her orders. Her thoughts on Clarke were another matter entirely.

The blonde continued to flout every expectation she had of her. At first she had thought that the girl just wanted a pleasure slave, a gladiator to bed every night. Then she had thought that she was insane, no human emotions inside her besides bloodlust. Now she had been given a glimpse into the girl’s core, and it was beautiful and fragile and gave Lexa so many _emotions._

Costia had made her feel this way, sometimes. Protective, if she had to put words to it. Like she wanted to wrap her in her arms and shield her from the world. It was a powerful feeling, and one that she was uneasy feeling for Clarke. She had known the blonde for less than a day, and already she felt the beginnings of protectiveness, of _loyalty_. It was disconcerting.

Lost in thought, Lexa didn’t see the smaller woman rushing down the hall until she bumped into her outside Clarke’s door. A flutter of papers fell from her arms, and Lexa immediately stooped to pick them up. The pin on the woman’s breast had told her who she was.

“My apologies, domina, I did not see you.” Lexa stood and handed Abby Griffin her papers, keeping her eyes low and her head down.

Abby looked closely at Lexa. “Who are you? I don’t recognize you.” She seemed perplexed by that fact, and Lexa understood why. As the only adult in the house, she was the one responsible for buying the slaves. Lexa was a new face that she hadn’t purchased; it was only normal that the woman be suspicious.

She bowed. “My name is Lexa, domina.” She kept her eyes on the ground, Clarke’s voice running through her head and emphasizing the necessity of never making eye contact with her mother. She hadn’t been told what the consequences of that were, only that they were unpleasant and that Clarke could do nothing to protect her from them.

A brisk hand grasped her chin, pulling her head up and to the side. The woman’s touch wasn’t harsh, merely businesslike, but still Lexa had to fight to stop herself from snarling at Abby’s casual disregard for her dignity.

Abby dropped her hand, frowning. “I didn’t buy you. Why are you here?” She didn’t appear tense, not regarding Lexa as a threat.

Lexa struggled to keep the shock and contempt from her face. Even if she was only a girl, Abby knew nothing about her, and yet she dismissed her still. It was a sign of either complacency or arrogance, and neither endeared Clarke’s _esteemed_ mother to her.

She spoke without allowing any of her roiling emotions into her voice. “I was purchased by your daughter, domina. I serve as her body slave.”

Abby’s eyes narrowed. Striding forward, she knocked sharply on the doorframe of Clarke’s room and burst in without waiting for a response. “Clarke!”

Clarke was seated at her table, concentrating on the sketch coming to life under her pencil. She didn’t react when her mother entered at all, simply rubbing a finger over the page to smudge the charcoal. Lexa studied the blonde and saw tension in the curve of her spine, in the whiteness of the fingers clutching her pencil. She had no doubt that Clarke had heard her encounter Abby outside of her rooms and had merely waited for the confrontation.

Her mother was not amused. “Clarke, what is this?” She pointed to Lexa, standing behind her. Clarke looked past Abby, catching Lexa’s gaze, and Lexa rolled her eyes. The slightest hint of a smile quirked the blonde’s lips before smoothing out again.

Clarke’s eyes slid back to her mother. “This is Lexa. She’s my new slave.” She paused for a second, then added, “I bought her from the Arena.”

The older woman blinked. “Clarke, this is completely inappropriate. I do the buying in this household; you didn’t even _consult_ me! And a _gladiator,_ of all things? You’re a _child_ , you shouldn’t be around people like that!” She frowned. “No, this is completely unacceptable.”

Lexa watched the woman in fascination, entranced by the absurdity of her words and marveling how this unobservant, small-minded woman could have produced a daughter made of starshine and rage.

A sound from the blonde caught her attention. She turned her gaze to Clarke, then blinked once, twice, three times, her brain not believing what her eyes told it. Clarke was… _No, she couldn’t be. Is she… crying?_

~~~

Clarke allowed nothing but serenity to shine from her face, but inside she was far less calm. This had been the largest problem she foresaw when she bought Lexa. Her mother had never been exactly understanding when it came to Clarke’s unconventional choices, but her father had tempered her. Now that he was gone, Abby had become almost irrational in trying to mold Clarke into the perfect noble daughter. It was exhausting, honestly.

Abby was beginning to turn red, a warning sign that Clarke was intimately familiar with. If she didn’t head this little tantrum off now, before it really had the chance to build up steam, then there would be absolutely no chance of her mother ever seeing reason.

She braced herself for the humiliation of what she was about to do, then glanced to the ground and forced her eyes to tear up. Sniffling a few times for effect, she waited until she had a good stream running down her cheeks before meeting her mother’s startled gaze. “I just… I’ve just been so lonely lately, since… since dad…”

Trailing off, she glanced back to the floor and dashed her sleeve against her face, making it look as if she were frustrated with her tears. She continued in a slightly stronger voice. “And then I saw Lexa in the Arena, and she was just so small and she looked so _scared_ , and I thought that we weren’t that different after all, you know? So I asked the Chancellor if he would allow me to take her and he said yes.”

Clarke made sure to meet her mother’s eyes before she delivered her next words. “He’s just _so_ generous, you know?”

The faint twitch of her mother’s muscles, involuntary as it was, gave Clarke immense satisfaction. The words had been just a touch too ingenuous, not nearly enough to make the woman suspicious but enough to make her uncomfortable.

Her next words drove the last nail in the coffin. “I know how close he and dad were, and I’m just grateful that he’s supporting us so well, just being here for you, you know? I worry about you sometimes. You got elected to the council so soon after dad…” Her mother’s eyes widened. “I just worry that you’re doing too much, too soon, taking on too much and not letting yourself grieve properly.” She made her face as guileless as possible, wide-eyed and innocent in the manner of a toddler.

Abby ate it up. Relaxing, she placed a hand on Clarke’s shoulder, not noticing the subtle tensing of the younger girl’s muscles. “Oh, Clarke, I understand. I haven’t been around much lately, have I? I’m sorry, truly I am, but of course you can have Lexa if she keeps you happy.”

Behind her, Clarke saw Lexa bite her lip to contain her mirth, green eyes sparking with amusement. In truth, she herself was having trouble not laughing outright, but she forced it down, instead smiling as gratefully as she could. “Oh, thank you so much, mother. I just _knew_ you would understand, I mean you’ve been spending so much time with Chancellor Jaha, you must have been lonely too!” She threw her arms around Abby. “I didn’t even think! _I’m sorry!”_

Lexa threw a hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking. Clarke saw the flash of white teeth as they bit into her own hand, trying to contain herself.

Abby patted Clarke gently on the back. “Oh, don’t blame yourself sweetheart. It’s been hard for both of us.” The woman sounded slightly uncomfortable.

Clarke pulled back. “You’re late for a meeting, aren’t you. I’m sorry, I won’t keep you. Will you be at dinner tonight?” She straightened the papers still in Abby’s arms, glancing carelessly at them as she did. Several names and dates jumped out at her before she looked back up, and she made sure to commit them to memory.

Sheepishly, Abby shifted her weight. “Sorry, honey, but this meeting’s probably going to run late.”

“Oh, is everything all right?” Clarke made sure to sound concerned and not eager. She had to remind herself that _no,_ hoping for border skirmishes was not something a proper noble daughter would do.

Her mother shook her head, waving the question off. “Just some administrative details, nothing to worry about.”

Clarke felt her smile intensify, straining to the point where it hurt her to maintain. Her mother eyed her oddly for a moment before walking away, waving as she did so. “I’ll try to be home later tonight. Bye!”

Waiting for Abby to turn the corner, Clarke felt her hands begin to shake. As soon as the other woman was out of sight, her smile collapsed and she fell back into her chair.

Lexa walked fully into the room, leaning on the table and watching her silently.

Clarke slumped, hands coming up to cradle her head. Her mother had lied. Lied straight to her face, not even considering telling her ‘yes, something has happened but it’s council business’. She could have respected her daughter as a person, a human being, not some little doll to coddle in the few minutes she was at home.

It was… infuriating. It was infuriating, being treated like a child all the time. Her mother acted as if she had no agency, no mind of her own to exercise. Her hands shook still, even as they supported her head.

She sighed, forcing herself to calm. _This_ was not something she could control. All she could do was use it, turn that rage to ice and channel it through her veins. It would be the kindling that she stoked into a flame, and when she took the throne it would be that flame that blazed from her eyes and turned her enemies to ash.

She lowered her hands and raised her head, looking at Lexa. The woman met her gaze steadily. “You’re with me?”

Green eyes narrowed. “To the death.”

Clarke straightened her shoulders. “Then pull up a chair. You need to learn to fight properly, and to do that we need to find someone to train you.”

Lexa frowned. “I was under the impression that Arcamian law prohibited slaves learning to fight. On pain of _death_. I will fight for you, but I would much prefer to survive this little adventure longer than a week.” She raised an eyebrow. “And you really don’t look like the kind of girl who has the kind of friends who would illegally train me.”

Laughing, Clarke nodded. “It’s true, I don’t have those connections – _yet_. That’s part of your job, you know. But in the meantime, I have a plan. A word of warning, though; it may be a little risky.”

~~~

She told Lexa the plan.

It was insane.

Lexa rolled her eyes heavenward. _The universe is laughing at me_.

It had to be true. That was the only way she could have been saddled with this crazy girl who had stars in her smile and blood in the shine of her hair, who had wolf eyes and a silver tongue.

The universe was playing chess with her life and laughing as it watched.

_Game on, then._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, seriously, stupidly sidetrackted.


	5. you blow my endorphins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it seems as if the universe is laughing. And it gives Lexa a headache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry I'm late. Real life has truly been a bitch lately. I will do my utmost not to let this affect Monday's release. If it makes up for it at all, this is the longest chapter yet.

Three weeks.

That was how long it had taken to put together the plan, and it had only gotten more insane as time had passed.

There were so many things that could go wrong, so many things that hinged on pure chance, and Lexa wasn’t sure how Clarke was maintaining her serenity in the face of all that. She felt like she was going to vibrate out of her skin, and the endless repetition of learning her duties and carrying them out and bowing her head whenever she saw Abby was only grating her nerves further.

And now they were out at the market. _Shopping_.

Lexa hated shopping now. All she could do was alternate between worrying about the plan and remembering the last time she had been out shopping and the horror show that day had turned into.

She turned to Clarke, the blonde inspecting different colored paints at a stall. “Are you absolutely sure about this plan?” She kept her voice low and her eyes lower, not wanting to draw attention to them.

Clarke picked up a container of green, bringing it into the sunlight to examine. She looked supremely unconcerned, which _didn’t reassure Lexa at all_ , for some reason. “Yes, Lexa, for the ten thousandth time. We can do nothing further. We can only carry it through.” She shot the brunette a look. “Relax, won’t you? Your tension is making me tense.”

The girl yawned like a cat and stretched lazily, tossing a few coins at the vendor and handing Lexa four different paints. She stepped out from under the shadow of the stall and tilted her head back, closing her eyes and humming at the feel of the sun on her face.

Lexa stared at her incredulously. “Yes, I can see your tension from here.”

Opening one eye, Clarke fixed Lexa with a look. “A warrior doesn’t worry about what she can’t control. And make no mistake about it, you _are_ a warrior.” She went back to basking, leaving Lexa speechless and slightly flushed. “Come on, we still need to look at the fruit vendors.” Clarke opened her eyes reluctantly and grabbed Lexa’s hand, pulling her through the crowds and ignoring the squeak that Lexa would forever deny uttering.

She pulled Clarke to a stop, though, when the blonde made to hurry them through an alley between two buildings. “Are you sure that’s safe? I may be your warrior, but I’ve had no training yet.” She eyed the pooling shadows suspiciously.

Clarke sighed. “It’s fine, I use this shortcut all the time. If we try to go around it’s a fifteen minute walk that takes us through the heart of the forum. I have no interest in being jostled around by a thousand sweaty people, do you?” When Lexa still didn’t look convinced, she huffed. “Look, if you come now we can spend the fifteen minutes we don’t waste on walking finding a new dagger for you. I know for a fact that weaponsmith whose work you admired is here today.”

Lexa was ashamed to admit that the outright bribery swayed her. “All right, just walk quickly. We do have things to do today, you know. Things we really can’t be late for.” She gave Clarke a meaningful look.

Brightening, Clarke beamed at her. “How could I forget something so very important?” She grabbed Lexa’s hand once more and resumed tugging her rapidly.

They strode further into the alleyway, Lexa’s shoulders tensing more and more with every step they took. It was almost a relief when two men loomed out of the shadows, menacing in a way that was too predictable to really be threatening. The gleaming knives they held, however, were threatening enough on their own.

The one on the left stepped forward, and Lexa immediately noted the ugly gash that had taken a chunk out of his nose. She promptly dubbed him Chunk and his companion Asshole, just so she didn’t have to think ‘the one without the scar’ every time she thought of him.

Chunk leered at Clarke, twirling his knife. “Well isn’t this a surprise. Went to grab a drink and found ourselves two pretty little things like you.” Lexa bristled, not liking the way the man looked at Clarke even the slightest bit. She stepped forward, shoving Clarke behind her and leveling the man with a flat glare. He chuckled, not looking the slightest bit intimidated. “Oh, you want to go first? Look, Brock, the slave whore wants to go first.”

Lexa began sidling backwards, trying to push Clarke along with her inconspicuously. She did not like the way Chunk was looking at Clarke _at all,_ and Asshole was worryingly quiet.

Chunk grinned at her. “Stop that, pretty, or I’ll think you don’t want to be with me and my feelings will get hurt. You don’t want to hurt my feelings, do you?” Asshole stepped forward, long legs halving the distance between them in one stride.

Glaring, Lexa spat at Chunk’s feet. “Go suck each other’s dicks, you carrion-ridden firefuckers. Or can you not get hard if your partner actually wants it?”

Without his face changing at all, Asshole struck Lexa hard, a backhanded blow that rattled her brains. Only Clarke’s tight grip on her hips kept her mostly upright, but her vision blurred momentarily. _Okay, that may not have been the best plan I’ve ever had._

Chunk wasn’t smiling anymore. “You know what? I’ll take your estimable mistress first. She’s the only one we wanted, anyway, you’re just… a bonus.” He walked up to them. “Hearing you scream will only make it more fun for me, pretty.”

When he tried to wrench her away from Clarke she fought him as hard as he could. She managed to get several vicious blows in, even striking him in the groin. Her foot connected with the hard metal of a codpiece, but the blow angered him enough to slash at her with his knife. Her eyes widened and she only had enough time to throw up an arm before it connected.

Searing pain raced through her, radiating fire from a long slice down her forearm. Dimly Lexa was aware of screaming coming from somewhere behind her, the pain muddling her thoughts and narrowing her awareness to that long line on her arm.

The screaming suddenly registered to her shocked mind as _Clarke,_ and the thought of the blonde experiencing anything to make her scream like that made her struggle through the pain back to full awareness.

Chunk was advancing on her slowly, knife dripping red and that godsbedamned smirk back on his face. Asshole had his hand wrapped around Lexa’s arms, keeping her in place. She squirmed desperately, but it was as if she were trapped by iron bars. She saw a shadow pass the mouth of the alley and stop, as if peering into the gloom, and she shouted as loud as she could before Asshole shook her _hard_ , rattling her brains once again.

The noise that came out of her mouth did not resemble words in any language she knew of, but it seemed to do the trick. The shadow started running towards them and resolved into the figure of a guard, sword unsheathed and plumed helmet covering their face.

Chunk immediately let go of Clarke and held his hands up, dagger sheathed so fast it seemed almost like magic. Asshole backed off too and Lexa rushed to Clarke’s side, looking her up and down for injuries. “I’m fine, Lexa, don’t worry.” The blonde reassured her gently, but Lexa didn’t stop until she confirmed it with her own eyes.

Lexa turned back to the three men without taking her hands off Clarke, wanting the reassurance that this market day was not going to end like the last. The guard had the two men backed against a wall and held at swordpoint. Chunk looked dazed, blood streaming from a gash above his eye, and Asshole just looked sullen.

The guard had lost his helmet in the fight, allowing curly black hair to spill over a handsome face. “Miss, can you tell me what happened? I highly doubt it was these two asking you for directions.” He cast a dark look at his captives.

Lexa opened her mouth, but a gentle nudge from Clarke had her shutting it again. The blonde stepped forward slightly, allowing Lexa to reposition her hands as she did so. Her bearing changed as she did so, subtly gaining regality until she was a noblewoman once more, no longer the happy-go-lucky girl she had been in the market. The guard straightened as she did so, subconsciously recognizing the authority of the woman in front of him.

Clarke cleared her throat gently. “My slave and I were visiting the market for the day. We were on our way to the fruit market when these two accosted us. They marched us into this alley with knives in the small of our backs, then told us that they were going to use us for their pleasure. That one-” She gestured at Chunk. “-said that I was the one they were after, and that Lexa was just a bonus.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “He said that he would enjoy her screams as she watched him violate me, and then he would do the same to her. He tried to take me from behind Lexa, but she fought him, and he cut her.” Here she gestured to Lexa’s arm, which, the brunette noted absently, was streaming blood.

The guard was shaking. His eyes had narrowed to slits, and his hand tightened reflexively on his sword. He looked at the men, then at Lexa and Clarke, then closed his eyes. A sound escaped his lips, one that sounded like resignation and rage mixed into one. “I would ask that you look away now, ladies.” The words were spoken almost casually as he advanced on the men, but neither Clarke nor Lexa averted their eyes.

The sword in his hand caught the little light in the alley and shone like fire, casting reflections across the angles of his face. He looked like an avenging angel in the low light, righteous fury shining in his eyes and casting terror on the unholy scum cowering before him. When he struck, there was none of the economy of motion Lexa had seen in some of her opponents in the Arena. What there was was a fury that overtook him, lending his blows strength that was unmatched. The men died in agony, ropes of blood splashing across the walls of the alley to mark their final end.

Asshole was cleaved from groin to throat, the sword going almost all the way through him. His intestines spilled out onto the cobblestones, and a streak of dark blood splashed onto Chunk’s terrified face. Lexa almost felt sorry for him, the terror stark in his eyes, but then she remembered how he had looked at Clark and the pity turned to a dark satisfaction.

The guard turned his blade on Chunk, one vicious slash removing the hand he had touched Clarke with, the backswing opening his throat. He didn’t even have time to scream before his vocal cords were severed.

The guard turned back to them, eyes cast low. He pulled a rag from a pouch at his hip and began cleaning his blade, never looking at the two of them. “Are you all right? Did they hurt you beyond what you’ve told me?”

If Lexa were to hazard a guess, she would say that the man was afraid of their reactions to his brutal slaying of the assholes. Glancing at Clarke, she sighed. He probably _should_ be afraid of them, but not for the reasons he was likely thinking.

The beam radiating from the blonde’s face could have illuminated a lighthouse. Striding forward, she hooked her arm into the guard’s, ignoring his wide eyes at her impropriety. “You’ve just saved both our lives, master guard. Please allow me to thank you for that by accompanying me to lunch?” She batted her eyelashes at him.

Looking utterly stunned, he nodded silently. Lexa sympathized with him. Clarke was a force of nature when she wanted to be. She knew the other girl called her ‘hurricane’, but if she was a hurricane then Clarke was a volcano, completely harmless – until she wasn’t. When she was angered she was unstoppable, implacable, fiery death with the force of gravity behind her.

She watched a smile break out on Clarke’s face and shook her head. The other girl was really very _perplexing._

Clarke guided the stunned man out of the alley, pointing them in the direction of the villa and ignoring Lexa completely. Lexa seized the opportunity and went through the dead men’s pockets quickly, coming up with a folded paper and fifteen denarii. She raised an eyebrow. That was not an insignificant sum.

Pocketing her finds, she walked quickly out of the alley in time to hear Clarke’s next question. “May I ask the name of our savior, master guard? Or would you prefer I use only your title as we dine?”

The man shook himself, some measure of his wits returning to him. He glanced at Lexa once, then returned his attention to the blonde on his arm. “Blake.” His voice was low and slightly rough. Pleasing to the ear, if Lexa were at all interested in that sort of thing. “Bellamy Blake.”

Clarke glanced at Lexa and smirked slightly. “Well, Bellamy Blake, it is an absolute pleasure to meet you.”

~~~

Clarke smiled at the man seated opposite her. “I’m so glad you agreed to join me, Master Blake. I owe you a great debt. Who knows what those scum would have done if you hadn’t stepped in?” She fluttered her eyelashes for effect and saw Lexa roll her eyes from her position behind Bellamy. That had been a strategic choice. Lexa could signal Clarke easily without the guard noticing a thing, allowing her to get Lexa’s opinions on his words without giving away their unusual relationship.

Bellamy smiled sheepishly, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “It was nothing, really. I was just doing my job.” He hesitated. “I really must apologize, though, for my handling of those… Men.” Clarke heard the bite in his voice, the anger that was being suppressed.

She shook her head, cutting off his next words. “You have nothing to apologize for, Master Blake. You did the world a favor.”

He looked surprised for a moment, then smiled. Clarke was taken aback at how the slow grin lit up his face, making what was already a handsome face stunning. _If I were any other girl, I would swoon, I think. But then again…_ She glanced at Lexa, bright eyes boring into the back of Bellamy’s head with that singular intensity she had. _There’s only so much attention I can spare for pretty faces with her around._

Bellamy’s voice drew her attention from what had turned to blatant staring at Lexa. “Please, Madam Griffin, it’s Bellamy. Master Blake was my father, and there is nothing I want less in this world than to be associated with him.” He looked embarrassed for a moment before glancing away. Clarke doubted he had meant to let that slip, and she did him the courtesy of ignoring it.

“Of course, Bellamy, but only if you call me Clarke. Madam Griffin is my mother and, well, let’s just say I share your sentiments regarding your father.” She grimaced, realizing how heavy-handed that had been, but smoothed her face out. It was out now, bitterness forcing its way to the surface, and all she could do was deal with it.

The man blinked, winced, opened his mouth, then shut it again when Clarke raised an eyebrow. He fidgeted for a minute before sighing deeply. “All right… Clarke. But only in private. It’s more than my life is worth if I get caught being so informal with a noblewoman.”

Clarke smiled brightly, ignoring Lexa’s look of faint disdain. “Excellent! Now that that’s settled, let’s eat. Lexa, if you will?” She arched an eyebrow at the brunette, delighting in the dark look the woman shot her before bringing the food to the table.

“Yes, domina.” She could practically taste the disgust Lexa felt at being forced to serve Bellamy.

Bellamy dug into the food and groaned when the taste registered. “This is incredible.” He cut a piece of roast boar and closed his eyes as he savored it. “Absolutely incredible.”

Chuckling, Clarke motioned discreetly for Lexa to eat as well while his eyes were closed. “I’m glad that you enjoy it, Bellamy. It’s really the least I can do to repay you for saving our lives. I take it you don’t get to have boar often?” She bit into a baked apple and hummed happily.

A flush rose in Bellamy’s cheeks. He shook his head. “No, not often. I think I’ve had it three times before today.” He looked down, poking at his food. “My sister and I, we didn’t really get the opportunity to growing up.”

Clarke could see there was something else there, something tender under the surface. She was interested in Bellamy, in the handsome guard with fury blazing through his veins and old wounds just under his skin, but she knew from experience that some things had to be coaxed out. Going straight for them would get her nowhere, it would only serve to make Bellamy clam up.

She brought her glass to her lips, taking a small sip and fixing her eyes on Bellamy’s face. “You have a sister?”

His face softened and lit up when she asked, a sign of adoration that obviously ran deep. It raised him slightly higher in her estimation, the knowledge that this handsome man thought so highly of his sister. Many would not, would be far more interested in the beautiful blonde sharing a meal with him.

“Yes, I do. Her name is Octavia.” He smiled when he said her name, a sweet smile that even Lexa couldn’t find fault with.

Clarke returned the smile. “You obviously think very highly of her. Younger?”

He nodded. “Six years.”

“What does she do?” Clarke was genuinely interested in his answer, especially after his face darkened slightly when she asked. For someone who obviously adored the girl as much as he did, the obvious disapproval was unexpected.

Bellamy sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “She’s a soldier.” Clarke’s eyebrows shot up. That had _not_ been what she had expected him to say. He saw her obvious confusion and elaborated. “She’s a ranger.” He paused. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but she’s a Shadow.”

If Clarke had been surprised before, she was stupefied now. Behind Bellamy Lexa fumbled her wineglass, almost dropping it in her shock. The Swift Shadows were legends in the Twelve Territories. No one knew who they were, or exactly what their duties were, only that they were fast, deadly, and fiercely loyal to their commander. Most didn’t even know who their commander was, but Clarke had found out completely by accident several months previously while snooping through her mother’s papers, looking for an update on Gelusian activity.

She stared at Bellamy openmouthed. “How in all the seven hells did your sister, who can’t be more than twenty two, get Indra’s attention?”

He twitched violently. “ _How_ did you know who their commander was? That’s one of their most closely guarded secrets!”

Clarke waved the question off impatiently. “My mother is on the council. I snoop. How did Indra notice Octavia? As far as I’m aware she recruits from qualified scouts, ones with years of experience. Even if Octavia joined when she was sixteen, there’s no way she could have distinguished herself that much in so little time.” She eyed him suspiciously, aware of Lexa sitting up straighter and dropping a hand to the dagger concealed at her waist.

Bellamy looked at her for a second before sighing. “My sister and I grew up on the streets. My father abandoned us when we were little, and our mother was executed a few weeks after I turned twelve. We had nowhere to go, but I was determined to take care of O. We actually managed pretty well. We learned to beg, and pick pockets, and steal from the lazier vendors. We made a nice little home for ourselves.

“Two years later, when O was eight, I got sick. It was winter, and we’d been having trouble finding as much food as usual. Normally I would never have gotten as sick as I did, but I’d been giving her most of my food. She was this tiny little thing, and I was so worried that she would starve. Of course, now that I was so weak, others were eying us. They wanted our supplies and our space, had wanted them for a while before then. A couple of boys, probably thirteen or so, came to take everything, but O stood up to them. One of them smacked her, knocked her right to the ground, but she just bounced back up and charged him. They went round and round like that a few times, Octavia getting the shit beat out of her in the process, but she just wouldn’t stop fighting.”

He paused, a soft smile playing on his lips. Clarke reached out and covered his hand with hers. “She sounds like quite a handful.”

He laughed. “That she is. There she was, one eye swollen totally shut, clinging to the back of one boy while screaming curses _I_ didn’t even know at the other, when Indra walks by. I think it took her half a second to figure out what was going on, and less than that to scare both boys off. She was the most intimidating person I’d ever seen, still is if I’m being honest, but Octavia didn’t flinch, just stood up as tall as she could and glared down a soldier in full battle dress.”

Grinning, he took a drink from his glass. “Indra looked so _perplexed_ , like she had never been in that situation before. Then she crouched down, face-to-face with O, and told her ‘You fight well’.” He smiled wistfully. “She took the both of us in that day. Got me the best healer she could, taught the both of us everything she knew, and hired tutors to teach us the rest. I joined the guard as soon as I came of age, and Octavia joined Indra’s ground unit the day she did.”

Clarke blinked, then blinked again. She had never _dreamed_ that her new friend was so well-connected. Locking eyes with Lexa, she smiled ever-so-slightly. The other woman had disbelief written all across her face. It was endearing, actually, her utter unwillingness to allow even the slightest threat to Clarke within a hundred meters of her. _No wonder she hated the plan so much_.

Sighing, Clarke glanced to the ceiling. Now came the tricky part, the part where she convinced Bellamy Blake to betray the Chancellor and join her in his overthrow.

~~~

Lexa glared menacingly at the back of Bellamy’s head. She could see Clarke falling for his words, sweet words of brotherly devotion and a tragic backstory worthy of the stage, but not Lexa. She would stay on her guard around him, and _when_ he turned out to be more trouble than he was worth she would take pleasure in slipping her blade between his ribs.

Her jaw clenched as Clarke laughed at something he said. _I’m sure he’ll be just as funny while he’s selling us out to the Chancellor._ She grabbed the water jug angrily, pouring herself a glass in the hopes of cooling off. _Laugh, laugh, laugh, Blake. We’ll see who’s laughing in the end._

She listened idly to them converse, Blake mentioning that Octavia was a ranger. She lifted her glass to her lips, then heard ‘-she’s a Shadow’. She choked, glass dropping from her fingers before she clumsily caught it. A Shadow? _It’s not possible._

His tale was incredible, the stuff of epic poems. Homeless street rats being adopted by a rich patron? She scoffed. Only a fool would believe that. And yet…

Clarke was looking at him with stars in her eyes, hanging on to his every word. She was eating it up with a spoon, and Lexa didn’t know how to warn her to stop. She huffed, listening absently as she played with her cup.

Looking up, she found Clarke looking at her, a slight smile playing over her lips. It widened slightly before the blonde broke the gaze, sighing and looking up at the ceiling. Lexa’s eyes widened, recognizing the train of thought Clarke was having. It was _far too soon_ to bring Blake in. He was an unknown, a flight risk, circumstances vastly different than the ones Clarke had found her in.

She jerked to her feet, the sudden movement catching Clarke’s attention. She gestured furiously at the door, trying to tell Clarke without words that she needed to speak with her. Fortunately Clarke caught on, excusing herself from Blake gently and making her way out of the room.

Lexa followed quickly, grabbing her arm and jerking her to a stop once they were out of earshot. “Are you _insane?”_

Clarke looked affronted. “I’m sorry?”

Lexa huffed. “You were about to tell him everything. _Everything,_ Clarke. There aren’t words to describe what a bad idea that is!” She threw her hands into the air.

Crossing her arms in front of her chest, Clarke frowned at her. “Why is that so bad? He would be such an asset to us. You heard him, his sister is a Shadow. His adoptive mother is the _High Commander_. He could be so useful to us, Lexa!”

“ _If he’s telling the truth!”_ Lexa hissed the words, trying desperately to keep her temper. “We _just_ met him, Clarke. We know _nothing_ about him beyond what he told us himself. If you try and bring him in now, there’s nothing stopping him from going to his superior officer and telling them everything.” She paused, and her stance softened when she saw how Clarke was glaring at the floor. The blonde looked like a scolded child, and it made something inside of her feel warm.

Lexa sighed. “Clarke, when you found me I was desperate and on the verge of suicide. I had nothing to live for, and nothing to lose. Blake isn’t like that. He has a career, a family; he stands to lose everything. You need to wait, learn more about him. We need to know if he’s trustworthy before we try and recruit him.”

She reached out and gripped Clarke’s shoulders firmly, trying to transfer some of her confidence into the blonde. Clarke covered one of her hands with her own and smiled shakily at Lexa, sending a spark up her arm. “You’re right.” She sighed. “You’re right, as usual. This is why I need you, Lexa. You keep me grounded, keep me steady while my head is in the clouds.” She met Lexa’s eyes steadily. “We’ll wait. But in the meantime, the plan continues.”

It was worded like a statement, but Lexa could sense a faint hint of a question in the words. She nodded firmly. “The plan continues.”

Clarke nodded in return, holding Lexa’s gaze for a dizzying moment before squeezing her hand firmly and turning. She swept back into the dining room, apologizing airily to Blake for the inconvenience. Lexa resumed her post behind Blake, but this time when Clarke caught her eye she smiled.

~~~

Dropping back into her seat, Clarke apologized to Bellamy. “I’m sorry, there was a minor issue with one of the kitchen slaves. Not to worry, everything is sorted out now.”

He smiled at her, no trace of the condescension or arrogance she was used to from adults present in his face. “Nothing too traumatic, I hope?” His face was understanding, no pressure for perfection present.

She laughed. “No, not too traumatic.” She hesitated. “Speaking of trauma… I have a favor to ask of you.” She met his gaze squarely, dropping her bubbly, flighty noblewoman persona just a shade. “If you hadn’t come when you did, those men would have violated and murdered both Lexa and me.” She waved off his token protest. “Don’t waste time with humility, we both know it’s true. They would have brutalized us and there would have been nothing we could have done to prevent it.”

Bellamy reached out and took her hand in his. “Clarke, it’s okay. They’re gone now, they can’t hurt you anymore.”

She bestowed a flat look upon him and he straightened involuntarily. “Yes, Bellamy, I realized that somewhere in between you eviscerating the first and nearly beheading the other.” He fidgeting with his hands, avoiding her gaze.

Clarke rolled her eyes. “The _point_ is, we weren’t capable of defending ourselves. What I’m asking is that you help us ensure that we never find ourselves in that situation again.”

Bellamy looked up sharply. “What are you asking, Clarke, because if it’s what I think it is that is _extremely_ illegal.”

Lexa rolled her eyes behind him, forcing Clarke to suppress a chuckle that she was sure wouldn’t be well received. “I am asking you to teach the both of us to fight.”

Standing abruptly, Bellamy almost sent his chair flying before Lexa caught it quickly. He glanced back at her for a moment before returning his attention to Clarke. “Just training _you_ would be enough to get me discharged from the guard, but _her?_ That would be my _life_ , Clarke!”

She shot to her feet to match him. “And this is _mine!_ Those men were after _me,_ Bellamy!” She held out her hand to Lexa and the brunette dropped a folded page into it. She unfolded it with short, angry motions, shoving the portrait of her own face into Bellamy’s startled hands. “They were after me and I was _helpless._ Next time there may not be some hero waiting in the wings to swoop in and save the day. Next time it may just be me and Lexa, but if you help us we might be able to survive on our own.”

She sagged back into her chair, suddenly feeling exhausted. “Bellamy, they were after _me._ ” She dropped her eyes, playing with her napkin.

A large hand moved into her line of vision, covering her hands and stilling their movement. She looked up at him, face tired in a way that a man of his age shouldn’t be. He looked at her intently for a moment, then nodded. “All right. I’ll help you. But you can never tell _anyone,_ understand?” She nodded, but he pressed, voice intent. “ _Anyone_. If you do I’m pretty sure we all die.”

She pulled one of her hands out from underneath his and used it to sandwich his hands beneath her own. “Bellamy, I understand. _Trust_ me, if there’s anyone in this godsbedamned city that understands it’s me. We won’t tell.” She smiled up at him. “Thank you. Truly. You have no idea what this means to me.”

He stood up, clearing his throat gruffly. “Yeah, well, if we get caught I’m blaming you.” He shifted from foot to foot, not meeting her eyes. “I need to go, my shift starts soon.” He started for the door then turned. “Meet me by the west gate tomorrow at dawn. Wear clothes you don’t mind getting dirty.” He left without another word.

Clarke turned to Lexa, the other girl staring at the doorway with an inscrutable look. “So, I think that plan went well.”

~~~

Lexa rolled her eyes. “That was the worst plan I’ve ever even heard of. There was no logical reason for it to go well.” She dug in her waist pouch, retrieving the coins she had taken from the dead men earlier. “Here’s your money back, by the way.”

Clarke took the money, a surprised look on her face. “I didn’t expect them to still have it. I was under the impression that mercenaries like those drank their pay away as soon as they got it.”

Lexa smirked. “I told them that if they still had it when they confirmed the kill I would double it. We are on a budget, you know. Every denar counts.” She was actually quite proud of that little brainstorm. Clarke got an allowance from her mother, but there was much they needed to do, and her allowance was not infinite.

Beaming, Clarke pecked her on the cheek. “What would I do without you?”

Lexa managed to work through the shock enough to retort shakily, “Steal your own damn guard schedules?”

Clarke lifted her nose in the air snootily. “I am out of place in establishments such as those. No one would ever gossip about the young hotheads if I were there.”

Rolling her eyes again, Lexa walked away without a word. _Mad, mad, the whole world is mad._

She called back over her shoulder, “You should get some sleep. I’m pretty sure Blake’s expecting us before the sun is up, and you have a bad habit of sleeping before noon.”

She would never admit it to anyone, but the sound of Clarke cursing furiously behind her brought a smile to her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, on the other hand, did not get the memo and am now reading a new chapter when it got released as opposed to have read it before. Rude Amber, but I get the reasoning. 
> 
> If it helps, yes she was extremely busy with everything and I had to steer clear from her for a week. *pouts*, I missed this asshole.


	6. change (moments move you on)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lexa gets her ass kicked more than once, and a new friend gets very, very angry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What even is an update schedule? Not something my professors respect, that's for sure. I'll try to do better, but I'm in the last month of my semester and I might not be able to get these out as regularly as before.

“Defend yourself!”

That was all the warning Lexa had before a sword arced toward her. She wrenched her own blade into a perfect guard position, but the force still sent her sprawling. She landed hard on her back, breath knocked from her lungs and head swimming.

Blake’s head poked into her line of vision. “This isn’t working.” He offered her a hand up, pulling her gently to her feet and steadying her until the dizziness faded. He frowned. “I’m just too big for you.” Clarke pulled a face from where she was doing drills that had Lexa stifling a snort.

He rolled his eyes. “Laugh all you like, but my techniques are made for a man of my size. You’re too small for them to really be effective.”

Lexa glared at him. “Are you saying I’m hopeless, Blake?” Her eyes narrowed dangerously. She’d show him hopeless.

Throwing his hands in the air, he shook his head. “Not at all. I’m just saying that I can’t teach you properly on my own.” He paused for a moment. “Let’s call it a day. Meet back here tomorrow, I may have a solution.”

Lexa grumbled mutinously while Clarke cheerfully agreed. Blake turned to leave, slipping through the gap in the hedges to start the fifteen-minute walk back inside the city walls.

The weeks since beginning training had been eventful, to say the least. On the first day, it had been a fifteen minute hike filled with a constant stream of reassurances from Blake that no, he was not bringing them so far from the city so he could murder them and hide their bodies. Clarke had seemed to believe him, but Lexa made sure to keep him in her line of sight at all times.

Once they had finally reached the edge of the forest, Blake had walked another five minutes in before taking two steps to the right and vanishing. He popped his head out of a bush and pulled the both of them into a secluded clearing, almost flawlessly circular and perfect for training.

~~~

“Bellamy, this is gorgeous!” Clarke spun in a circle, eyes wide as she took in the beauty around her.

Lexa said nothing, folding her arms over her chest as she looked around. It was pretty, she supposed, but for all she knew the shrubbery was full of Blake’s friends, just waiting for a signal to jump out and kill them all.

Clarke looked at her. “Lexa, isn’t this beautiful?”

Glaring at the ground, she nodded grudgingly. “Yes, domina.” They had agreed that Lexa would maintain her slave persona as much as possible until they decided whether to trust Blake. That didn’t mean she had to like it, though. She just _knew_ Clarke was taking pleasure in forcing her to be subservient to that… that walking gorilla.

The gorilla looked at her and frowned. “Hey, Lexa, I’m gonna need you to do something for me if we’re doing these lessons, okay?” His voice had gentled, like he was trying to coax a wounded animal out from its den. It aggravated her.

She kept her eyes trained down anyway, doing her best to suppress the urge to stab the condescending oaf. “How may I serve, Master Blake?”

“Stop being a slave.” The unexpected words drew her gaze up, boring intently into the man’s face. He gulped under the unexpected intensity, but continued on. “You can’t be worried about flouting some stupid custom or breaking taboos if we’re going to do this. I need you to be at your best, completely raw and uninhibited. So you need to drop the slave persona and just… be Lexa. Can you do that?” He was still speaking to her in that thrice-cursed patronizing tone. She itched to beat him until he cried.

She glanced at Clarke. “Domina? Does this please you?” Internally she winced. _That could have been phrased better._

Clarke smirked. An eyebrow raised. “Nothing would please me more, Lexa.” She purred the words out, and the husky tone sent a shiver down Lexa’s spine.

Blake’s voice sent ice water down right after it. “Okay, so your mistress agreed. Do you think you could try that? Try being a little less reserved? I don’t want to make you do anything you’re really uncomfortable with, but I think that it’s important, okay?”

Lexa sighed and nodded, meeting his eyes. He grinned. “All right then.” He pulled two swords from the bag slung over his shoulder, handing one to Lexa and discarding the bag. “I want to spar with the both of you, get a sense of what your strengths and weaknesses are.” Lexa arched a dubious eyebrow, which he promptly misinterpreted. “Don’t worry. I won’t be going full power. You don’t have to worry about getting hurt.”

Clarke snickered from behind her. “That _really_ wasn’t what I was worried about, Blake.” Her voice was dry as sand and it took him off guard. She dropped into a combat stance, gave him half a second to understand what was going on, and attacked. She lost, but the startled look on his face was worth the defeat.

Two minutes later, when Clarke had finished bandaging the open wounds on both fighters, she said, “Did I ever tell you that I bought Lexa from the Arena?”

Blake’s groan made Lexa laugh whole-heartedly.

~~~

The day after Blake had so dramatically admitted his own inferiority, Lexa found herself in the exact same situation as the day before. On her back, wind knocked out of her, and pissed. This time, however, Blake didn’t offer her a hand up. She groaned, relaxing into the hard-packed ground beneath her. The break, however small, was a relief to her aching body.

“ _Ge smak daun, gyon op nodotaim.”_

The unfamiliar voice had her scrambling up, sword in hand and searching for whoever had managed to stumble upon their _very illegal_ training session.

Blake jumped in front of her, hands held up. “Whoa, whoa, don’t get all stabby on me. It’s just Octavia.”

Lexa narrowed her eyes, looking around the larger man. Her gaze was met with nothing but she persisted. She tilted her head up, peering into the foliage surrounding them, and was met with the sight of a small woman wearing ragged furs crouching among the branches of a particularly large oak.

The girl – Octavia, presumably – grinned and jumped down from the tree. “You’re observant. That’s good. Most people don’t think to look up.” She sauntered forward, coming to a stop next to her brother and leaning on him casually.

Lexa felt Clarke slide up to stand beside her, a hand covering her own and urging her to lower her sword. She complied warily, not easing the defensive stance she was in as she eyed the girl. Clarke let her hand stay covering Lexa’s as she addressed Octavia. “You’re Bellamy’s sister? The Shadow?”

Octavia nodded, smiling up at the man. “That’s me. Bell asked me to help train you two, said that he wasn’t suited for the students he had. And let me tell you, he was right. Did the both of you a favor, calling me in.” She eyed the both of them, gaze taking in everything about them. “I’ve been up there for a while now, watching you. You’ve got potential, I’ll give you that.”

She drew her sword almost nonchalantly. “Hey gladiator girl. Heads up.”

Lexa’s eyes widened and then she was fighting. This was worse than Blake, the other Blake, the gorilla, but in a way that felt almost _easier_. Octavia was by far the more skilled fighter, but against her Lexa at least had a hope of meeting her sword and staying on her feet.

They fought furiously for a moment before Octavia knocked Lexa off her feet, blade resting gently on her throat. Lexa blinked. She hadn’t even seen the girl _move_.

Octavia grinned down at her. “You okay, gladiator girl?” Lexa nodded silently, still shocked by the speed she had been taken down with.

The sword swung from her throat back into its sheath and a hand was offered. Taking it, Lexa allowed herself to be hoisted up. “You’ve got serious talent. I wasn’t actually holding back that much, you know. If you picked that up in one day in the Arena and two weeks with my brother, you could probably get to my level within a year. Maybe sooner, if you work your ass off.”

Blake spoke up from his position off to the side. “So you’ll do it?”

Octavia clapped Lexa on the shoulder. “Hell yeah I’ll do it. This is too good to pass up.”

Clarke broke her silence for the first time all morning. “It doesn’t bother you, the consequences if we’re found out? I’m a noble, and Lexa’s a slave. That’s a death penalty for us all.”

“That’s half the fun!” Octavia’s smile was slightly manic, and Clarke and Lexa traded alarmed looks. Well, Lexa’s was alarmed. Clarke’s leaned more towards admiring, and Lexa resigned herself to even more trouble than she was already in.

“Wait, one thing. What was that you said earlier? When Bellamy had knocked Lexa ass over tits again? It sounded… I don’t know. Strange.” Clarke’s voice was curious.

Octavia smirked. “ _Ge smak daun, gyon op nodotaim._ It’s the motto Indra gives all ranger recruits. It means get knocked-”

“-get knocked down, get back up.” Everyone turned to stare at Lexa, who ignored the looks. She kept her attention on Octavia. “Indra is Lignakru?”

The girl smiled slowly. “Yes she is. I take it you are as well, gladiator girl?”

Lexa returned the smile. “I am. It’s good to see she keeps the traditions alive.”

Clarke waved a hand, drawing Lexa’s attention back to herself. “Um, what are you talking about?”

Lexa glanced at Octavia and received a lazy hand wave. “In Lignum, there are two languages. One is the common language, the one we’re speaking now. The other is only spoken by warriors.” She smiled wistfully. “My father taught me and Anya before he died.”

She glanced at Octavia, slightly unnerved by the grin the girl wore. “What?”

Octavia chuckled lowly. “Nothing, really, I just- You and Indra would _really_ get along.”

~~~

A month later, Clarke was seriously considering abandoning all her plans and allowing her mother to mold her into the perfect daughter. _I would speak softly, learn to organize the household, and marry Wells. I could live with that. I’d never have to pick up a blade again, and that is all that is important right now_.

“ _Ge smak daun, gyon op nodotaim!”_ That voice. It was the voice in her nightmares. It wouldn’t leave her alone.

She groaned and threw herself to the side, landing hard but managing to roll herself upright without losing her sword. Octavia grinned, lashing out in a horizontal cut that Clarke managed to parry and return. “Good, Clarke!” The Shadow’s voice was free of strain, as untroubled as if she were merely taking a light stroll through the city instead of heading into her second hour of combat training.

Clarke mustered up a burst of energy and lunged, clumsily batting Octavia’s sword to the side and catching the woman with a full-body tackle. They crashed to the ground, Clarke scrambling to end up on top. After a few seconds of grappling, she landed a solid headbutt to the other woman’s forehead, stunning her long enough to pin her arms and steal her dagger. Placing the blade to her throat, she stared down at her, panting heavily.

There was a beat of silence, and then Octavia burst into laughter. “Well done, Clarke. I think that’s the first time you’ve managed to beat me!” She easily rolled the blonde off of her, flipping upright and offering her a hand up.

Clarke accepted the help gratefully, every muscle screaming as she did so. “You were going easy on me, weren’t you.” She wasn’t even surprised, just resigned to the fact that Octavia was so far past her level it was pathetic.

With a _disgusting_ lack of shame, Octavia nodded. “You’ve still improved, though, easy or not. I think you could try sparring with Bellamy now when I’m working with Lexa.”

They both glanced towards the other side of the clearing, where Bellamy and Lexa were locked in what Clarke thought may be mortal combat. Grunts and hissed insults overlaid the sound of clashing blades. With a shout, Lexa wound her sword around Bellamy’s in a complex maneuver Clarke recognized as one of Octavia’s favorites, sending the blade flying and leaving Bellamy disarmed and kneeling.

Clarke had a momentary worry that Lexa would take the opportunity to behead the kneeling man. Fortunately for all involved, the bloodlust faded from her eyes after a second’s pause.

She stepped back quickly and dropped her sword, not offering him a hand up. He didn’t seem offended, and Clarke was just happy she hadn’t stabbed him. _Much_ , she amended, seeing blood drip down his arm. She hadn’t stabbed him much.

Octavia applauded, drawing Lexa’s attention to them. “You’re a natural, gladiator girl. Keep it up.” She turned back to Clarke. “You need a little more work, but you’re getting there. Let’s call it a day, I’ve got patrol in an hour and I really can’t be late.” A frown crept across her face and her shoulders tensed.

Clarke tilted her head slightly, taking in the shadow that had crossed her friend’s face. “Is everything alright, Octavia?”

The other girl sighed. “Yes. Well, no, but I can’t tell you what’s wrong. It’s heavily classified. Let’s just say no one enjoys patrol anymore.” She rubbed a hand across her forearm, unconsciously worrying a long scar that ran down it.

Making an educated guess, Clarke put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s the Gelusian raiding parties, isn’t it.” Octavia jerked her head up sharply, eyes wide and alarmed. “They’re picking off the scouts.”

Clamping down on Clarke’s arm, Octavia yanked the girl as far to the edge of the clearing as she could. Her voice lowered to barely a hiss. “Where did you hear that?” When Clarke didn’t answer immediately, she shook her. “ _Where?”_

The tip of a sword slid gently to a stop under Octavia’s ear. Clarke glanced over and saw Lexa, ice cold and furious, fixing her gaze intently on the side of the Shadow’s head. “You have three seconds to remove your hand and step back.” Her voice was glacial, arctic wind sweeping the tundra.

Octavia didn’t move for a moment, then jerked back sharply, hands raising above her head. She never broke eye contact with Clarke, though, and Lexa’s sword didn’t waver. “Clarke, I need to know how you knew that. If we have a leak it could be devastating.”

Bellamy turned his gaze on her as well. “Is it the same way you knew who Indra was?” Clarke was perversely pleased to see suspicion in his eyes. If he was willing to blindly trust every pretty face that same along he would be worse than useless.

She sighed, considering options. A glance at Lexa showed her the fury that still simmered, but also a hint of resignation. The brunette met her gaze and nodded slightly.

“Yes, it’s the same source. My mother is a councilor.” She paused, surveying the siblings’ faces. Bellamy just looked faintly exasperated, but Octavia… Octavia looked furious.

“Your mother is a councilor?” Clarke nodded silently, unsure of how this interaction would go. “Your mother is a councilor and she gives up this information this _easily?_ ” Clarke scrunched her face up, torn between admitting her snooping and keeping her secrets. Her mother really couldn’t have predicted that her daughter would spy on her at every opportunity, hoping to topple the government. She didn’t think that was her mother’s main concern when she came home every night.

It didn’t matter, though, as Octavia plowed on without giving her a chance to speak. “They classify it as ‘vitally important to the security of the nation’ and then just go and gossip about it to their families? People have _died_ to protect this information. Innocent people! Is the chancellor doing _anything?”_ Bellamy’s eyes widened, a glint of recognition lighting in them, and he made a grab for Octavia, but was too late to stop her next words.

“I’m not sure he’s fit to be chancellor!”

~~~

Silence fell across the clearing. Blake’s eyes slid shut, despair written across his features. He was the first to break the stillness, dropping to his knees and dragging his sister with him. “I apologize most humbly, Madam Griffin, for the hasty and ill thought out words of my sister. I beg you not to think them her honest opinion, merely the influence of her passion in the moment.” He bowed his head. Beside him Octavia looked sullen, but followed suit.

Lexa stared wide-eyed at the two kneeling figures. She hadn’t anticipated this level of disgust towards Jaha from Octavia. It would push their plans forward weeks, weeks she known Clarke had intended to spend watching the siblings together, ensuring their trustworthiness. Happily, they knew now. The words Octavia had just spoken were a death sentence to her, possibly Bellamy too if a case of complicity was made well.

Clarke looked at Lexa, arching an eyebrow and tilting her head towards the Blakes.

Lexa nodded, feeling that warmth spread through her insides that was becoming more and more familiar as the weeks passed. Clarke was giving her the chance to show the Blakes that she was more than just a slave, that she was an equal in every way. “Tell them.”

Clarke launched into the tale that she had told Lexa on that first morning, almost two months before. Lexa was pleased to see that both of the Blakes seemed just as enraged by Abby’s betrayal as she had been, not that she had expected anything else. For two orphans who had spent so long with their sibling as their only priority, family was doubtless a big thing.

Reaching the end of her story, Clarke paused, surveying her small audience. Lexa was as dispassionate as always, the merest hint of sunshine warming her gaze when she met Clarke’s eyes. Clarke smiled sweetly at her and Lexa cursed internally as she felt a blush rise to her cheeks.

Blake looked conflicted, like his heart and mind were warring. Lexa knew he had a very strong moral code, one that would object to the actions of Jaha and his council, but a loyal streak that would discourage rebellion. In the end, he would likely follow Octavia.

Octavia, who looked utterly furious. She shot to her feet and Lexa drew her sword silently, not stepping forward but keeping her attention focused on the angry girl. The Shadow paced rapidly for a moment, swinging back and forth so fast Lexa was sure she would get dizzy.

Stopping abruptly, Octavia turned back to Clarke. Her sharp hazel eyes had narrowed, and she looked honestly murderous. “I have three questions. First, why is the council hiding the Gelusian aggression?”

Clarke answered honestly, no hint of her usual mischief in her face. “Money.”

“How many innocents have been killed in their attempts to keep it hidden?”

“Four hundred and sixty two.”

“You intend to overthrow the chancellor.”

“Yes.”

Blake made a sound of surprise next to her, but Lexa’s entire attention had narrowed to the two women standing in front of her. This moment felt like a knife’s edge, with a noose on one side and death on the other and a razor underfoot. Octavia had the power to ruin them. Lexa hoped she chose well.

Octavia’s face twisted, indecision marring her features. Her uncertainty only lasted a moment, but it was a moment slicked in honey, wrapped in tar, dragging by as slowly as the time before time.

A decision was made and the world snapped back into focus.

~~~

Clarke’s face showed none of the terror she felt. This moment decided her future. Telling Lexa hadn’t been as much of a risk as this. Octavia was one of the most highly-regarded soldiers in the entire army. She would be granted the courtesy of an audience, and with her brother to corroborate her story and Indra to back them both up, Clarke would have a hell of a time avoiding the hangman.

A glance at Lexa showed her intense and ready to kill if Octavia wavered. It was comforting to have her there, but Clarke was uncertain as to how much difference she could make if it really came down to it. Neither of them were capable of defeating the Blakes if they stopped holding back.

Octavia stared at her, face shadowed with doubt, and Clarke held her breath.

Suddenly, the girl’s face cleared and she drew her sword. Lexa stepped forward, tension coiling and sword coming up, but Clarke waved her back, something in her compelling her to see this through.

Octavia stepped forward and dropped to one knee. “I, Octavia Augusta Blake, do swear my sword and service to you. I offer my blood and blade and life, through war and plague and famine. I will serve until Death himself deems my service done. So mote it be.” She balanced the blade across both of her palms and offered it up to Clarke.

Clarke didn’t hesitate. Grasping the blade with both hands, she spoke. “I, Clarke Camille Griffin, do accept your sword and service. Through war and plague and famine, I will lead and guide until Death sees fit to have us part. So mote it be.” She lifted the sword from Octavia’s grasp, the blade red from where she had gripped it, and drove it into the earth.

Wide-eyed, Octavia wrapped one hand around the hilt and the other around the blade, drawing blood to match and finishing the traditional oath. “Clarke, I… How did you know the words? That oath hasn’t been used in a century.” Bellamy knelt cautiously beside her, eyes on Clarke for as long as possible until he needed to look down to bandage his sister’s hand.

Clarke grinned. “I like to read.” Sobering, she turned to Bellamy. “I need to know now, Bellamy. Will you join me? Join us?”

Lexa tensed once more behind her, but didn’t step forward. Bellamy looked at Octavia, then back to Clarke. “My sister, my responsibility. I follow where you go, O, I always have.” Looking back at Clarke, he grinned sheepishly. “But, um, you may need to take my word for it. I don’t know any fancy words like O here.”

 


	7. bathing in the rush i need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a party and Clarke drinks more than she should.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got no excuse.

Lexa groaned, falling against the closed door. The Blakes had spent almost four hours at the villa, lunch turning into an ‘ally celebration’ that Clarke and Octavia had banded together to create. It had been a nightmare, with wine flowing freely the entire time and Blake – the older Blake; she was going to have to think of a new moniker for him – seeming to think that they were friends now.

It had taken her almost half an hour of determined avoidance before he had gotten the message.

Even better than that, Abby had walked in after several hours of drinking. She was greeted with the sight of her beloved daughter laughing uproariously with two strangers and her slave. It had taken all of Lexa’s creativity to smooth that out.

~~~

Octavia and Clarke were laughing hysterically, tears running down their faces as they pointed at Bellamy. Lexa wasn’t entirely sure what was so funny; she was being careful to keep herself firmly clearheaded, knowing that someone had to be responsible, and the other girls had degenerated into happy yelling a little while ago. Still, they were enjoying themselves, and Lexa couldn’t begrudge them that.

Bellamy stood and pointed to the sky dramatically. The dignity of his pose was undercut slightly by the faint swaying that he was struggling to counteract. “I’ll have you know-”

An extremely unwelcome voice cut him off. “What the hell is this?” Lexa whipped around to find Abby standing in the doorway, shock written across her face as she took in the scene.

Looking at her companions with an objective eye, Lexa winced. Bellamy was still in his guard’s uniform, which admittedly was clean, but marked him as being lower class. Clarke was red-faced and still chuckling, seemingly unable to completely stifle her mirth, and Octavia was wearing wilder garb as per usual. She still hadn’t told them why she wore it, and Lexa reminded herself absently to ask now that she was drunk.

She returned her attention to Abby, who still looked shocked, but with a rising wave of anger that Lexa was really not in the mood to deal with. She really didn’t have a choice, though, since Clarke looked to be thirty seconds away from launching into an extremely bawdy song about mermaids, most likely.

Gliding up to stand next to Abby, she bowed slightly and fixed her serene slave mask on. “Greetings, domina. If you would allow me, I can provide you with an explanation.”

Abby rounded on her. “Well at least _someone_ can. What the hell is going on, Lexa? Why is my daughter with these two… hooligans?” She grimaced as she said the word, as if she would be tainted merely by uttering it. Lexa stared at her in faint disbelief.

Mind racing, she put together a story as quickly as she could. She had expected to have much more time to think of an explanation for Clarke’s friendship with the Blakes, if they even explained it at all. “Domina, Clarke met the Blake siblings in the market today. We were shopping for fresh fruit when we were assaulted by two men and driven into an alley at knifepoint. I believe their intent was to steal our valuables but fortunately for us, Captain Blake heard the commotion, ran in, and subdued the men. Sergeant Blake then escorted them to a holding facility while Captain Blake stayed behind to take care of us.”

She leaned in closer to Abby, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “I think Clarke has been lonely lately. She insisted on sharing a meal with them as thanks, and she looked so happy when they accepted.” Keeping her eyes trained firmly on the ground, she prayed that Abby would accept the story. It was close enough to the truth that they could easily remember it, and it wasn’t so sensational that it would cause Abby alarm.

Beside her Abby was silent for a moment before sighing. She walked forwards without responding to Lexa at all, prompting an eye roll from the brunette, and addressed the three at the table. “Clarke, will you introduce me to your friends?”

All three jumped at the words, none of them seemingly having noticed the woman at all until that minute. Clarke’s face contorted. “Mom! You’re here!” Lexa sighed, envisioning all the ways this could go wrong. She doubted drunken Clarke had anything resembling a filter.

Clarke hopped up, swayed, and steadied herself against the table. “Mom, this is Bellamy and Octavia. They’re really awesome and they’ve helped us a lot!”

Behind them Lexa ran a hand through her hair and grimaced.

Abby smiled. “Yes, Lexa told me.” Clarke shot Lexa a betrayed look, eyes comically wide. “Allow me to thank you, Captain Blake, for stopping the men who were planning on hurting my little girl.” She directed her words to Bellamy, prompting Lexa to snort softly and both Octavia and Clarke to burst out in fits of laughter again.

The smile vanished. “Have I said something wrong, Clarke?” Her voice was cold, and Lexa could see tension in the harsh lines of her neck. _She hates being laughed at. Interesting. And unsurprising._ She stepped in quickly, trying to keep the situation from spiraling further.

“No, domina, you merely mistook Bellamy for Octavia.” Lexa gestured at Octavia. “This is Captain Blake, domina. Sergeant Blake-” Here she pointed at Bellamy. “-is her older brother.” Clarke and her had been surprised to find that Shadows were automatically granted the rank of Captain on their commission. It was yet another fortuitous little happening that Lexa was learning to just accept.

Octavia bounced forward. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am! Clarke’s told us _so_ much about you.” She paused, then giggled. “Oops, I’m sorry, I meant Madam Griffin.” She grinned, her usual sunny smile beaming like the sun in her exuberance. Abby looked charmed despite herself.

Bellamy stepped forward after her, slightly more composed than his sister. “Madam Griffin, I am pleased to make your acquaintance.” Lexa was reluctantly impressed with the clarity of his speech even after having drunk a full bottle by himself. “Your thanks are appreciated. Your daughter is a joy to be around.” He bowed.

Smiling gently, Abby waved a hand. “You don’t need to stand on ceremony, Mister Blake. I can tell that Clarke has told you the same thing. You two seem like good kids, I’m glad Clarke is making friends from all walks of life.” Clarke sniggered. Lexa stepped on her foot. “If you don’t mind, though, it’s late and I’d like to get some sleep.”

Bellamy nodded gravely. “Of course, Madam Griffin. O, let’s go. We can visit Clarke another time – if that’s all right, of course.” He gave Abby a questioning look, and she nodded in response.

Ushering his sister along with him, Bellamy left quietly. Lexa escorted the siblings through the villa and to the door. Eyeing their flushed and disheveled forms, she snorted. “Let’s hold off on training tomorrow. I don’t need anyone collapsing halfway through.”

Octavia patted her cheek clumsily. “You’re such a good friend, Lexybear.” Lexa’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped, words failing her. Octavia didn’t notice at all, merely waving over her shoulder as she stumbled away.

Lexa leveled a glare at Bellamy. “One word and you’ll never be able to have children.” The man gulped and followed his sister without a word.

~~~

Clarke watched sadly as Lexa escorted the Blakes out. Now she was alone with her mother.

She pouted.

Abby looked her over, eyes lingering on the flush in her cheeks and the disheveled state of her hair. “Did you enjoy yourself today, Clarke?” She didn’t seem _too_ disapproving, just… glowery? _Is that a word?_ Clarke pondered that for a second before shaking her head and remembering the question.

“Yeah! I really did, they’re so fun!” Just the thought of the Blakes cheered her up. Octavia was like the sister she’d never had, and Bellamy was just a giant teddy bear, really, perfect for poking and squeezing. He hadn’t liked it when she poked him in the nose, though.

Her mother sighed indulgently. “It’s late, sweetheart. You should get some sleep.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, but obligingly staggered towards her room. She had to pass Abby on her way out, but as she did her foot caught on a crack in the stone and she teetered, in danger of falling. Only her mother’s hands on her waist kept her upright.

A strange look was on Abby’s face as she steadied Clarke. “Clarke, are you _drunk?”_ She sounded incredulous, although Clarke had no idea why she would be.

Laughing, Clarke batted the other woman’s hands away from her. “Yeah, a little. You should try it!” She ignored the warning look that grew on Abby’s face. “It’ll relax you. Might help get that stick out of your ass.”

“ _Clarke!”_ Her mother sounded furious, but Clarke ignored her, waving lazily as she passed her. Abby stomped after her, grabbing her wrist and swinging the girl around to face her once more. “Don’t you walk away from me!”

Clarke’s eyes narrowed, the haze of alcohol clearing rapidly from her mind. All she could focus on was the hand on her wrist. The same hand that had brought about her father’s death, the one that touched the chancellor. That hand was on her, as if it had a right to, as if it didn’t belong to a snake with a woman’s face.

“Remove your hand, or I will remove it for you.” Her voice was cold as ice, but her mother seemed not to notice.

Abby’s face reddened. Her mouth opened, no doubt to spew some saccharine nonsense about the importance of family and togetherness – _or deliver threats she’ll never follow through with,_ her mind added – and Lexa swept in between them, gracefully replacing Abby’s hand with her own. “Allow me to care for Clarke, domina. I believe she has consumed too much wine in her celebration of new companionship.”

She was guiding Clarke away before Abby had a chance to process the words, and they were back in Clarke’s quarters long before the woman had a chance to respond. Clarke started giggling hysterically, then couldn’t seem to stop. “Did you see her face?” She was gasping through her laughter, previous anger vanishing like smoke.

Lexa smiled reluctantly, the sheer joy on Clarke’s face warming her insides and cracking her stoic façade. The girl was crazy, there was no doubt of that, but she was also funny and smart and sweet when the mood struck her. The pain over Costia was still there, Lexa thought it always would be, but it wasn’t the same dagger-sharp intensity it had been in the beginning. Her thoughts turned more and more to the wolf girl in human form who had swept into her life and turned it inside out.

Clarke broke away from her grasp and dashed into the bathing room. “Lexaaaaaaa, I’m all sweaty and the room is spinning. Oh look water!” Lexa rolled her eyes and followed. It would be truly unfortunate if Clarke drowned in the bath after all the work they had done.

She entered the room and stopped dead. Clarke was standing in front of her completely nude, eyes fixed unerringly on her. The girl suddenly seemed far less drunk than earlier as she prowled forward. Lexa’s mouth opened involuntarily, a sharp breath echoing on the tile as she sucked in air. Clarke stumbled dramatically, and Lexa reached out automatically to catch her as she fell.

The feeling of Clarke bare against her set Lexa’s entire body on fire. In the months of living with Clarke, she had never actually seen her completely unclothed, always bathing at separate times. She stared unabashedly, mouth dry.

The girl smirked at her, draping her arms around Lexa’s neck. “Oh, clumsy me, I think the wine’s gone to my head. Will you help me bathe, Lexa?” Clarke drawled her name, sending shivers down her spine as she dragged it out. Full lips closed over her earlobe and she whimpered, eyes closing.

Clarke drew back slightly and took her hand, pulling it flat against her stomach. Lexa’s fingers twitched at the feeling of warm skin under her palm, and it took all of her control not to act on every filthy thing she wanted right then. She took a breath, pulling the shards of her shattered composure back into a semblance of order, but her thoughts were completely derailed when Clarke kissed her.

Absently Lexa noted that the first kiss hadn’t been a fluke. This kiss was harder and hotter, passion burning through her and clouding her mind, but under the heat was that same incandescence, that feeling of flying on crystal wings. Then Clarke’s tongue flicked across her lips and all she could feel was _want._

It was that absolute want that made her break the kiss and stagger backward. She was fully aware of exactly how much she wanted the other woman, and if she didn’t stop them now they wouldn’t stop at all. _That wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world…_

Shaking her head, she tried to detach herself from her body’s needs. If she were to be with Clarke, which she wasn’t quite opposed to, it wouldn’t be while the blonde was drunk out of her mind. That would be cheap and a complete breach of trust. No. That wouldn’t do at all.

She finally acknowledged what had been tickling her brain for weeks. The thought of moving on, of letting her loyalty to Costia fade into fond remembrance, didn’t send her into a panic. It wasn’t abhorrent to her anymore. She hadn’t wanted to accept it, had thought that the honorable thing to do would be to honor Costia’s memory, but Clarke was in her head and under her skin and she didn’t think that she could resist much longer. Her dreams had turned from nightmares of that final day, to memories of their best times together, to scenes with Clarke, and she couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Of course, that would all be dealt with once the woman could stand up without swaying. Backing up quickly, eyes fixed on the naked blonde, she held up her hands. “Believe me when I say I want you, and trust me when I say that now is not a good time.” Clarke pouted, bottom lip jutting out enticingly, and Lexa spun and fled.

Clarke’s voice echoed behind her. “Well if you won’t help me I’ll have to do it myself!”

Lexa’s eyes widened. If that meant what she thought it meant, she was going to be in for a _long_ night. The low moan that bounced off the tiled walls a few minutes later confirmed that thought. She would find sleep very, very elusive this night.

Another, louder moan drifted into the room, accompanying by the sound of water splashing. Lexa rolled over, shoved her pillow over her face, and screamed.

~~~

Blazing light searing through her closed eyelids woke Clarke the next morning. Flailing wildly, she tried to protect her eyes from it and rolled herself straight off her bed, hitting the stone floor with a thump that sent spikes of pain through her entire body.

Groaning, she lay still and tried to take stock of herself. The vicious headache pounding at her temples was self-explanatory, and groggily she vowed to never drink again. There was a sharp pain in her arm that she vaguely hitting on a doorframe the night before, and an ache between her thighs from…

_Oh. Oh no. No no no no no._

She slumped into the cold stone underneath her, memories of her flinging herself at Lexa swimming into her muddled consciousness. She had practically assaulted the girl, and when the other woman had fled she had acted like one of the girls at the lupinaria. Oh, Clarke wouldn’t blame Lexa if she had left in the night. She wouldn’t even blame her if she went straight to the council; she had acted like an ass.

 _I knew she wasn’t ready. She’s still mourning her lover, and what do I do? I strip naked and jump her in the bath. Well done, Clarke Griffin. So much for waiting for her._ She threw an arm over her eyes and groaned again.

“Well aren’t you the dramatic one.”

Clarke stiffened, not believing her ears at first, then yanked herself upright, ignoring her body’s screams of protest. “Lexa,” she breathed. The brunette smirked at her, looking every inch her usual collected self, but Clarke could see a hint of uncertainty in her eyes.

Lexa opened her mouth to speak, but Clarke cut her off. “I am _so_ sorry, Lexa. I was drunk, and I know it isn’t an excuse, but it’s all I have. I never meant to pressure you, I know you’re still mourning, and- and you have every right to! I didn’t mean to imply that you shouldn’t be, I just- it’s been a while, and you’re just _so_ amazing, and- I’ll control myself from here on, I promise, just please don’t leave. I need you, Lexa, please don’t leave me.” She ended her rant staring at the floor, unable to meet Lexa’s eyes and see the condemnation and disgust that must be there. The loss of control she had suffered the previous night made Clarke’s skin crawl, and the knowledge of what it had led to was almost more than she could bear.

Gentle fingers tucked themselves under her chin, raising her head to meet Lexa’s gaze. Those forest-green eyes that had her so entranced studied her for long moments, searching for- something, Clarke didn’t know. Whatever it was, it felt like the most important thing that could ever exist, the hinge on which her life swung.

Those warm eyes eased, fingers relaxing minutely from a hold to a caress. A soft smile formed on Lexa’s mouth, the woman seemingly pleased by whatever it was she had seen, and then she was kissing her, soft and slow. It was the most intimate thing Clarke had ever felt, just a sweet brush of lips on lips that had he soul fluttering inside of her, aching to meet Lexa’s own.

After an endless moment Lexa pulled back, hand still cupping Clarke’s face. “Do all you Arcamians talk so much?”

Clarke’s eyes were half-lidded, basking in the sheer contentment Lexa’s kiss had brought her. She hummed lowly. “Usually, yes, but right now I think I’m alright with quiet.”

Smiling, Lexa ran a finger down her cheek. “I’m not going to lie and say I’m completely over Costia – I don’t think I ever will be, to be honest. But I do think I’m ready to try with you.” She gently tapped the tip of Clarke’s nose. “As long as the you I’m trying with is sober enough to stand unaided.”

Clarke swatted Lexa’s side. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” Her annoyed words were offset by the warmth in her voice and the sunshine in her bones. Lexa was with her all the way, she knew that now. It sent satisfaction rushing through her veins, satisfaction and happiness and a fierce rush of power.

She wanted to charge the council, run through the streets with a sword in one hand and Lexa at her other. She wanted to scream to the stars that she had her hurricane at her side and the future at her feet, shout her joy to the endless woods and make the world bend to her with the force of her will and the ecstasy in her heart.

She had never intended to get this deep, never meant to feel the way she did, but it was too late to back out now. This was something good, something that she had never expected to find, and there was no way it would slip from her grasp now.

Impulsively she kissed Lexa again, quick and hard, drawing back and giggling happily. Lexa wasn’t beaming the way Clarke was, but there was a genuine smile on her lips and a hand resting possessively on her hip.

A surge of affection rushed through her and she bit her lip, Lexa’s eyes zeroing in on the movement. The hand on her hip tightened, the air losing its giddy feel and charging with a heavier tension. Clarke leaned in, absently noticing how dark Lexa’s eyes had gone.

Their lips were a centimeter from connecting when a crash echoed in from outside Clarke’s room and Octavia’s voice, frantic and strained, followed behind it.

Exchanging a quick look with Lexa, Clarke sprinted towards the main door, figuring it was her best bet for finding Octavia.

Her gamble paid off, the Shadow crouching over another figure in the atrium. At the sound of their fast-approaching footsteps Octavia’s head shot up, relief etching itself into her features when she saw Clarke. “Oh thank god. She’s hurt, really badly, I didn’t realize how bad it was until she passed out on the way here.”

Waving Octavia back hastily, Clarke fell to her knees next to the figure on the ground. It was a girl, tan and dark-haired, covered in blood and quickly developing bruises. Even with the gore her beauty was staggering.

Clarke launched herself into the medic’s mindset, rapidly cataloguing injuries. “Okay, so she’s got slight head trauma, not urgent...” She ran her hands down the girl’s sides. “…two broken ribs, a gash on her left side, and… oh, god, her leg.” The sight of it knocked her from her professionalism. It was badly broken, in two places from what Clarke could see, but there were also cuts all along it. It looked like it had been run through a millstone.

Octavia lowered her head. “It was the guard. She was begging them to let her have a body, I don’t know whose. She wanted to give him a proper burial, but they wouldn’t let her. I guess they got sick of talking to her, so they…” She gestured.

Lexa growled behind her. “This was done for caring for a loved one?” Clarke heard her begin to pace. “Despicable.” She trailed off into mutters, speaking too quietly for Clarke to hear.

The girl on the ground coughed suddenly, body lurching with the movement. Her eyes shot open and she jerked forward, only to stop mid-motion with a moan of pain and sink back into Octavia’s supporting hands.

Octavia eased her back into a reclining position, supporting her head on her outstretched leg. “Hey, hey, take it easy. You’re safe.”

The girl squinted up at her, suspicion coloring her gaze. “Who are you? Where am I? What the fuck happened to me?”

Clarke answered, drawing the girl’s attention to her. “You were attacked by guards, do you remember that? Octavia saved you and brought you to me. I’m Clarke Griffin, this is my home. The girl brooding behind me is Lexa. Can you tell me your name?”

Still glaring, the girl on the ground seemed to contemplate her options for a moment before sighing. “My name is Raven. Can one of you help me up? I need to go kill the chancellor.”


	8. you're the one two count (my love)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Clarke has an existential crisis, Lexa gets in touch with her squishy feelings, and Octavia is very confused. A lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...in my defense, I've moved twice since the last chapter was posted, and I'm moving again at the end of the month,

Lexa’s eyes narrowed. This was just too good. There was absolutely no way something like that would just fall into their laps, even with Clarke’s track record. She stepped into the center of the tableau, four standing figures and one lying prone. Bowing her head, she made sure to speak gently but firmly. “Domina, may I have a word with you?”

Clarke blinked, surprise flashing across her face before it smoothed out into serenity. Lexa knew she had to be caught off guard, strict propriety having become more and more uncommon as time had passed. Nevertheless, the blonde gave nothing away, merely nodding and beckoning a nearby slave closer. “Summon Monty. Tell him to treat the girl as if she were one of our own, and _do not_ let my mother find out. She would cast her into the streets, injury or no.” The slave bowed his head and dashed away.

Motioning for Blake and Octavia to follow, Clarke led them all to a secluded corner. Lexa subtly positioned herself with her back to Raven, blocking Clarke’s face with her body. She knew that she seemed paranoid, and yes, the girl really was grievously injured, but it still reeked of a trap.

Octavia gripped and regripped her sword, nervous energy nearly palpable in her small frame. “Lexa, what’s the problem? She needs a healer, not to be lying on a stone floor!” She threw a quick glance over her shoulder and shifted on her feet.

Lexa sighed, taking care to keep her voice low and moderated. “The problem is that this is _far_ too convenient. She just so happened to get beaten right in front of you, who just so happened to take her here, where she _just so happened_ to issue a death threat against the Chancellor, who may I remind you we are _conspiring to overthrow?”_ She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It may be real. She may be legitimate and just have the worst impulse control of anyone in this godsforsaken country. However, there is a chance that she is lying, and I am not willing to risk the lives of anyone here by being careless.”

She glanced at Clarke reflexively, blue eyes calm and unconcerned. There was a hint of warmth there, though, trust hidden underneath, trust in Lexa to keep her safe. Lexa would be lying if she said that wasn’t her main priority, that she didn’t value Clarke’s life above the rest of them put together.

Blake nodded, breaking Lexa from her reverie. “She’s right.” Octavia opened her mouth, indignation written plainly across her face, but Blake cut her off. “No, O, she’s right and you know it. We don’t know a thing about her. I’m not saying we write her off entirely, just make sure she’s not a spy. Make sure that she won’t sell us all out.” He took her hands, focusing entirely on his sister. “Please, O. Let me be the overprotective big brother for once.”

Octavia sighed heavily. “Gods damn it, Bellamy, you can’t give me that line and those fucking puppy dog eyes every time. It’s just not fair.”

Lexa smiled grimly. “I think it’s justified in this case.”

A sudden bang startled all of them, heads whipping around to see the girl clutching her leg in agony. Blake seemed dumbfounded. “Did she just try to _stand up?_ Her leg is broken in at least two places!”

“We’ll get her settled in a guest room, and finish this conversation later.” Clarke swept away without waiting for reactions to her command, stooping to wrap an arm around Raven’s shoulder. She turned back to Lexa and gestured her over with an exasperated tilt of the head, not strong enough to carry the other girl on her own.

Before hurrying to aid the injured girl, Lexa paused for a moment and snorted. Even if she was a spy, Lexa couldn’t help but like her a little. She had a fire blazing inside her, one that drove her to do things like stand on a leg that was obviously wrecked. That was admirable. Against her will, Lexa found herself hoping that Raven was genuine. She seemed like the kind of person who would drive Blake _mad._

~~~

It was getting difficult to maintain her calm. Clarke would never let anyone see it, but her emotions were raging furiously, boiling hot right beneath the surface and she didn’t quite know how to handle them. Rage she could handle – it was nothing new, an old friend to her. What was new to her was the worry for her friends, the fear that they could be in danger because of her. Before Lexa, she had never had people’s lives resting in her hands, fragile and delicate and so, so easily destroyed. She had never particularly cared how her actions affected others, never cared if she hurt someone in pursuit of her goals.

Before Lexa, she had begun to think she wasn’t able to.

Now it was different. Now she had Bellamy, had Octavia, had _Lexa,_ gods. Brave, beautiful Lexa, who was perfectly happy to play the slave if it helped Clarke, who was abused and demeaned and dismissed simply because Clarke needed her to be and never even complained.

Who had swept into her life like the hurricane Clarke had named her and turned it upside down without even trying.

Who had coaxed Clarke’s defective heart into loving her so very easily.

Clarke blinked. She didn’t- not _love_ , surely. She wasn’t _capable_ of loving.

Was she?

She stumbled, taken aback by her thoughts and knocking harshly into a wall. A slave rushed to her side, concerned, but she waved him off and nearly sprinted into her room. She hadn’t even noticed her feet turning in this direction, didn’t remember anything past getting Raven settled and confirming her orders with Monty.

This… this was not ideal. Distraction at this stage could be fatal, and not just for her. She needed to get her thoughts in order, and that meant sorting out her feelings for Lexa.

One way or the other, she wouldn’t leave her room until they were resolved.

~~~

Lexa strode into the kitchens quickly, unwilling to leave Raven unsupervised for any longer than she had to. Rationally, she knew that the girl was incapacitated and completely incapable of doing anything besides resting, but her guard was up. Until the situation was resolved one way or the other she doubted she would relax.

A kitchen slave handed her a tray, chicken and bread and rice all sending delicious aromas directly into her face. Her stomach snarled but she ignored it. She had a job to do, and nothing would be gained if she didn’t do it.

Raven had been housed in an empty room in the slave quarters. It wasn’t the most sumptuous of spaces, but it had the essentials, and it was highly unlikely that Abby would ever discover her there. That wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to them, but it would be _extremely_ annoying, and Lexa wasn’t sure she had the patience to deal with it at the moment.

She made the short walk in half the time it should have taken.

Knocking briskly on the doorframe, she didn’t wait for a response before entering. The girl was sitting upright in bed, pencil in one hand and a sketchpad in her lap. Lexa raised an eyebrow. “You sketch?” She set the tray on the table by the bed, shoving it closer to Raven before settling herself in the room’s single chair.

The other girl raised an eyebrow right back at her. “Make yourself at home, I guess.” Her voice was dry, good humor lurking underneath slightly endearing her to Lexa. “And… Yes? Sort of?” An enquiring look from Lexa encouraged her to elaborate. “I don’t draw art, I draw blueprints. Diagrams. Ideas I have, things I want to build, ways to improve other things, you know?” She waved the pad in the air, a sketch of what looked like- was that a _siege engine_ Lexa could see?

“You are an engineer?” That was impressive. And suspicious in its impressiveness.

Raven looked down abruptly, pad falling to settle back in her life. “No, just a blacksmith. Not even a blacksmith, really. I’m just an assistant.” She smiled suddenly, bright and beautiful, but Lexa could see the strain behind it. “It’s better, really. I can learn and experiment and figure stuff out on my own without worrying about ruining something important.”

Lexa felt her heart twist suddenly. Costia had worn that same smile, many times in fact. She had worn it whenever she had been turned away by the healers in their village, sneers and snide comments trailing behind her, whispering that a foreigner could never be a healer. The memory evoked a pang of sympathy that she would never have expected, one that she tried to quash. Sympathy or no, Raven was a threat. Feeling sorry for people who were threats generally ended in underestimation and tragedy.

She told herself that, but that stubborn thread of feeling refused to back down. Lexa found herself laying a gentle hand over Raven’s, ducking her head to meet her eyes. “If the people around you are too blind to see the value in you, find people who will.”

Raven’s eyes opened wide then slammed shut, a tear spilling down one thin cheek. Lexa furrowed her brow, unsure of what she could have done to upset the other girl.

A soft whisper gave her the answer. “Finn always said the same thing.”

“Finn?”

With her free hand, Raven wiped away the tears that were beginning to fall. “He was my… He was my family. The only family I had, really. He was my best friend, my lover, my everything.” She sobbed shakily. “We were getting married, you know? We were saving our money so we could leave this cursed city and find a nice village to settle down in. We were going to get married, and I would be a blacksmith, and he would take care of the farm, and when we had kids he would take care of them too. _Gods,_ we were going to have kids! And now he’s gone, and everything is shit, and they won’t even let me have his body!”

She buried her face in her hands, sobbing hoarsely. Lexa didn’t hesitate, moving half on raw instinct as she wrapped the distraught girl in her arms as tightly as she could. She recognized this. This was the pain that came with acceptance, the acceptance that everyone you ever loved was gone. She had gone through it herself, but she had gone through it alone, and then had been thrown to the wolves and told to smile for the crowd as she was ripped to shreds. No one should feel that kind of pain by themselves.

Rocking Raven gently, Lexa smoothed her hand over her hair, humming gently. The song was one that her mother used to sing when she was sad, or ill, or just lonely. It had always soothed her; she hoped it could do the same for the other girl. She wasn’t as suspicious of her anymore. The kind of pain she was in was impossible to fake, and no one would go through it for the sake of a job. She would still need to confirm, but in the meantime…

She felt Raven’s breathing even out, almost half an hour and countless tears later. Lexa lowered her back into the cushions delicately, taking care to keep her from waking. The girl couldn’t be more than eighteen, and was light as a feather. She seemed infinitely fragile all of a sudden, like one wrong move would break her, smash right through the spiderweb of cracks covering her heart and shatter it into a scattered galaxy of lost stars.

Stepping back softly, Lexa left her to sleep. She nearly failed when she walked right into Clarke, the blonde leaning against the doorframe with a soft smile on her face. Putting a finger to her lips, Lexa gestured for Clarke to follow her as she strode off in search of Octavia.

As they made their way out of earshot of the sleeping girl, Clarke tentatively laced her fingers with Lexa’s own. The brunette glanced down quickly, taken aback but pleased. The casual contact sent sparks of warmth through her, calming her swirling emotions and grounding her in the other woman.

Swinging their clasped hands gently, Clarke asked her, “What happened in there? Two hours ago you were all but convinced she was a council spy.”

Lexa looked down, focusing on Clarke’s hand instead of her face. “She reminds me of me.” Clarke squeezed her hand lightly, bolstering her to keep going. “It’s just- the boy, the one she was trying to bury? He was… He was her Costia. He might have been her Anya, too. I remember when I lost them. Those feelings… They are impossible to fake, not convincingly, not to someone who has experienced them as well.” She sighed.

Clarke stopped walking, tugging on their clasped hands to stop Lexa as well. “I’m sorry.” When Lexa didn’t look up, she ducked her head to try and catch her eyes. “I’m _sorry._ I don’t think I ever truly said that to you, but I’m sorry for your loss.” She stepped forward, wrapping Lexa in her arms and snaking a hand into Lexa’s hair to cradle her skull. Pressing a kiss to the side of Lexa’s head, she murmured, “I am so, so sorry.”

Tears welled abruptly in Lexa’s eyes, and she stood woodenly for a moment before melting into Clarke’s embrace. Turning her head, she buried her face into blonde hair, inhaling the scent of wood smoke and lavender that was so uniquely _Clarke_.

A cough from down the hall popped the bubble of peace they had built. Lexa sighed softly and disengaged herself from Clarke’s arms, who didn’t seem particularly willing to let her go. Octavia raised an eyebrow, but thankfully didn’t say anything. Lexa mentally thanked her, unsure that she could handle snide commentary at the moment. Clearing her throat, she went to rest her hand on the hilt of a sword that wasn’t there, settling for wrapping a hand around the money pouch that hung at her side. “You hold the rank of captain, correct?”

Octavia nodded. “We all do, yeah.”

“So if you gave the city guards an order, they would have to follow it?”

Another nod.

Lexa nodded too, for no particular reason. “Then I need you to release a body to you. Male, dark hair, around eighteen. Name of Finn. Entered guard custody two days ago. Bring him back here, and don’t let anyone see you.”

Both of Octavia’s eyebrows were raised now. “You’re giving orders now?” She glanced at Clarke. “I wasn’t aware you were the one who gave the orders.” Lexa recognized the way her shoulders were beginning to set, stubbornness kicking in before her eyes.

Straightening her spine, she summoned every bit of the steel she had in her and laced it with the fire that came from Clarke. “Yes. I give orders, and you follow them. The only person I will ever bow to is Clarke, and you are not Clarke.” She paused for a moment to let the words sink in. “I am no more a slave than you are.”

Octavia stepped back as though she had been struck. “Wha- Clarke?” She didn’t sound angry, merely taken aback. Lexa took that as a good sign.

Eyes narrowing, Clarke stepped forward. Command radiated off her, an almost physical aura that surrounded her and gave her weight beyond her stature. “Lexa is my hand. She is my second and the commander of whatever armies I have, which right now is you and your brother. When she gives orders, I expect them to be carried out as though they were my own, because as far as I’m concerned, they are.” Her gaze softened slightly, and the tension in the air eased. “I trust Lexa with my life, Octavia. You should too.”

Several tense seconds passed before Octavia relaxed. She looked infinitely tired, but not mutinous. “All right, Clarke.” She rubbed a hand over her face, then turned to Lexa. “I’ll get the body as soon as I can. Expect me around nightfall. Do you have an image of him? It should speed things up.”

Lexa hesitated, thrown slightly by Octavia’s unquestioning acceptance, then nodded. She handed the other woman a sketch that she had slipped from Raven’s sketchbook while the girl was crying, anticipating the need for it.

Octavia took it and folded it into a hidden pocket on the inside of her furs. Bowing slightly to both Lexa and Clarke, she turned on her heel and left without another word.

~~~

Clarke smiled softly, watching the emotions playing across Lexa’s normally stoic face with fondness. It had apparently been a very trying day for the other woman to be showing her emotions so easily – normally it would require blood, sweat, and tears to get her to open up even a little bit. It was kind of endearing, watching bemusement war with worry.

The smile grew. It turned out that accepting the magnitude of her feelings for Lexa resulted in no less distraction than before. The only difference was that now it was a pleasant hum in her mind, one that was easily pushed aside when she needed to be entirely present.

It was strange, really. Clarke had sat and stewed for over an hour, turning her feelings over and over in her mind, picking apart even the slightest of interactions in search of hidden meanings. The conclusion she had come to was that she was not, in fact, in love with Lexa. Her feelings were a combination of attraction, stress, and proximity, and would subsequently fade with either time, distance, or sex, as any of them would remove a contributing factor.

She had been all set to ignore them forever, content to stay in a holding pattern of kisses and plots until after the coup was complete. Then she could move on, let Lexa find a nice girl who would actually love her as Clarke ruled Arcam.

Of course, five minutes after deciding that, she had walked in on Lexa holding Raven as the girl sobbed, careful and obviously aching for her, and felt a burst of affection that was so strong it nearly sent her to her knees.

_I could never let her go._

The words had echoed in her brain, searing themselves into every nook and cranny. Lexa was hers, and she would do everything in her power to keep her. The realization was sudden and ferocious, but it felt far more right than the one she had come to earlier. _I love Lexa. I love her and I will never let her go._

Facing her in the hall, Octavia’s footsteps receding in the distance, all Clarke can do is stare. The aura of command she had donned when talking to Octavia, when giving orders like she was born to do it and challenging her for dominance, it had affected her more than she had let on.

A moment passed, long enough for a flicker of uncertainty to show on Lexa’s face. She opened her mouth, to say what Clarke didn’t know, and Clarke pounced.

Surging forward, she slammed her mouth onto Lexa’s, hands falling to the other woman’s hips and pushing her into the wall behind her. The impact drove a soft huff from Lexa but Clarke didn’t let up, kissing her until she felt her head spin from lack of air.

She drew back just far enough to breathe and kept her entire body pressed to Lexa’s, pinning her against the stone wall. “You are incredible, and I am so lucky I found you.”

Lexa chuckled softly, the rasp of her voice sending shivers down Clarke’s spine. “I _feel_ lucky.” That drew a giggle from the blonde, happy and light, like she hadn’t laughed since before her father died. It felt nice, Clarke thought, nice to be able to laugh like that again. It had been so very long since she had felt young enough to be so free with her feelings.

_I love you. I love you. I love you._

She didn’t need to say it. It wasn’t time yet. They had all the time in the world. Right then, Clarke felt as if overthrowing the government would be easier than getting dressed in the morning, merely a blip in the passage of their lives.

_We have all the time in the world, and I love you._


	9. lay (hours under love)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Clarke Has A Plan and Lexa desperately needs a nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took fucking forever, I have six separate documents open because I couldn't decide which way to write it, and I am not drunk even a little bit. Happy New Year!
> 
> Also, TW for mentions of rape.

Steel swirled through the air and crashed on steel, the sweep of Lexa’s sword stopped by Clarke’s own. The blonde laughed and danced away, keeping out of reach as her smile lit up the clearing. “Are you getting slow in your old age, my love?”

Her words were met with a snort and a lunge. Twisting gracefully, Lexa slipped her sword behind Clarke’s guard and yanked, sending the other woman’s blade flying. Dropping into a crouch, Lexa swept Clarke’s feet out from under her, tumbling the blonde into the grass and following her down. Her sword was carefully tossed away from the two of them, leaving both hands free to mercilessly attack Clarke’s sides.

“Old age? I do believe you have misspoken, domina.” She kept her face purposefully blank as she spoke, pretending she didn’t notice Clarke squirming and giggling or her own mischievous hands. “In fact, it appears that you have tired yourself far sooner than I. Can I be of any assistance, _domina?”_

Clarke laughed helplessly. “All right! I yield! I yield! _Lexa!_ ” She batted at Lexa’s hands, trapping one in both of hers and tugging hard. The brunette was yanked down, full weight coming to rest on Clarke. She dropped a kiss on the blonde’s lips, lingering for a long moment before shifting her weight to the side, tucking herself into Clarke’s side.

The blonde curled one arm around her shoulders, tucking the other behind her own head. Moments like the one they were in were rare. It was hard to find peace with the life they lived. Lexa turned her head, examining Clarke’s profile. The crease that was becoming more and more prominent between her brows had smoothed as she gazed up at the cloudless sky, and Lexa could tell she was moments from dozing off. It was good to see the other woman relaxing. She was under far too much pressure, not that there was any way to lessen it. Little moments like these were all she could give her.

A movement from the edge of the clearing caught her eye. Octavia gestured subtly, beckoning her over. Lexa kissed Clarke’s cheek and gently extricated herself, taking care not to block the sun.

“Wha-?”

Lexa chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, Clarke, I’m not going far. Enjoy the sun. You’ve earned the rest today.” The blonde hummed sleepily, eyes sliding closed once more.

She crossed the clearing to join Octavia, the other woman leaning in the shadows under the same tree she had hidden in during their first lesson. Smiling softly, she mirrored the position, eyes sweeping over the younger Blake. “You look well, Octavia. Monty tells me you’ve been visiting Raven as she recovers. Have you come to a decision regarding her usefulness?”

The issue of Raven still plagued her. In the weeks since her injury and their subsequent adoption of her, she had done nothing suspicious whatsoever. The girl had sent no messages except to the blacksmith she apprenticed with, hadn’t even tried to contact friends. She stayed in the servant’s quarters, only asked for paper and pencils, and made almost no noise. She was, in fact, a model patient. It made Lexa itch.

No one was this perfect. She hadn’t once asked when she would be fully healed. It was like she was perfectly willing to stay indefinitely at a strange noblewoman’s house, surrounded by people she didn’t know and still in mourning for her fiancee. It was too perfect. And yet she truly didn’t feel the girl was a threat.

When Monty had mentioned that Octavia had taken to visiting the girl Lexa was almost relieved. Her thoughts had been going in circles for days, stuck in a looping pattern that was useless in every way. Clarke had been no help whatsoever. Octavia was a new set of eyes, a new perspective that might break her out of the rut she was stuck in.

Octavia looked faintly surprised. “I had no idea that Monty saw me. I never even saw him, what the hell?” She frowned. “How is he so sneaky? Whatever.” She shook her head and refocused. “I’ve been asking around down in the lower city. Raven and Finn aren’t famous, per se, but people know them. Sounds like they were pretty popular, or at least noticeable. Story I got pretty much fits what she’s been saying - ran away from home young, met Finn, spent some time on the streets before they snuck into the smithy one winter to warm up. Smith comes in, sees her fiddling with the bellows, and takes her as his apprentice right there. Apparently she doubled its efficiency.”

Lexa raised an eyebrow. “How old was she at that point? And should I assume she had no formal schooling?”

Nodding, Octavia pulled a sheaf of paper from a pouch at her waist. She flipped through it as she talked. “Yeah, street kids don’t go to school. Here we go. She was- _damn._ ” She broke off with a whistle. “She was thirteen.”

“ _Thirteen?”_ That was incredible. Even more so without any kind of education.

Octavia snorted. “I know, right? Look at this.” She pulled a short stick from her sleeve. Lexa cocked her head curiously.

“It’s a stick.” Her voice was dry. “Fascinating.”

Rolling her eyes, Octavia flicked her thumb and spun. A high whistle filled the clearing before cutting off with a thud. Both of Lexa’s eyebrows rose as she saw the small bolt halfway stuck in a tree across the clearing. Looking back at the stick, she saw that it had changed shape, unfolding into a miniature crossbow. It folded back into itself before her eyes, and Octavia fed another tiny bolt into it before returning it to her sleeve.

She waggled her eyebrows at Lexa. “See something you like, gladiator girl?”

Lexa didn’t rise to the bait. “Raven made that.” It wasn’t a question, and Octavia merely nodded. “When? How? The only things I or the slaves have brought her is food and paper.”

Octavia winced slightly. “Yeah, that was me.” Lexa’s eyes narrowed, but Octavia rushed onward before she could interrupt. “It was all totally harmless! Just wood and glue, no metal. I’ve dealt with prisoners before, I _do_ know what I’m doing.”

Nodding, Lexa acknowledged that point. “Where did the string come from, then?”

A quirk of the mouth accompanied Octavia’s words. “I strung it myself. She handed it to me without it, seemed to get that we wouldn’t give her stuff like that.”

“Wait.” A thought occurred to Lexa. “Why did she give it to you?” Waving her hand, she cut off the beginning of Octavia’s confused response. “What I mean is, how did she know you would appreciate a weapon as opposed to, say, a toy? You must admit, it’s not exactly a standard gift.”

Octavia sighed. “I told her. We’ve been talking, and not just about her. She knows I work for the guard, although I haven’t told her just what I do for them, and I was complaining a few days ago about the terrible quality of the guard’s crossbows and how they were all built for giant assholes. I come back yesterday and she hands this over, gives me a the most shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen, and tells me to come see her if this one is too big for me.”

Lexa blinked once, twice, then burst out laughing. Oh, she _liked_ this girl.

Twisting her mouth wryly, Octavia punched her on the shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Did you want me to finish my report or not?”

It took Lexa a few moments to regain her composure, little giggles welling up and breaking through. She finally managed it and gestured wordlessly for Octavia to continue, afraid that if she opened her mouth she would break down again.

Scowling, Octavia flipped through the papers she still held. “I lost my train of thought. Oh, right, here it is.” She paused, face darkening. Lexa frowned, but before she could ask if Octavia was alright the other woman had continued.

“She’s worked for the blacksmith for six years. Finn bounced between jobs for a while before becoming a courier. That stuck. Neighbors say he moved into the room next to the smithy after a year. No doubt she helped him save the money. Things went smoothly for five years; no gang ties, no real crimes, just the usual silly shit that no one cares about. Then about a month ago they start acting weird. Finn ditches his job, she stops leaving the smithy, and customers say she looked like she wasn’t sleeping. A week after that, the guards come. There’s a scuffle in the smithy but no one else besides them and the guards are inside. Finn gets dragged away by the guards. Four days later he’s executed for the murder of a guard, name of Myles. Raven goes to recover his body the next day, and you know the rest.”

She rolled the papers between her hands and looked up, meeting Lexa’s gaze. “Official story is that Finn was drunk and angry, met the guard in an alley, and stabbed him when the guard said something he didn’t like. Neighbors didn’t buy it, they all said that he was a total pacifist.”

Pursing her lips, Lexa asked, “Unofficially?”

Octavia sighed. “Unofficially, Bellamy knows one of the guards who arrested Finn. His name’s Murphy. Slimy prick, but useful. Murphy was with Myles the night he died. According to Murphy, they had been at a bar for most of the night. Murphy left at the same time he did, but went a different way. Before he got too far, he heard noises, said it sounded like a fight, so he turned back. Saw Myles in the alley with a girl. Short, dark, long brown hair. He says she didn’t look like she wanted Myles anywhere near her, was struggling to get him off of her. Scumbag didn’t do anything, though, just left them alone. Next day Myles is dead and Raven is catatonic.”

Octavia locked eyes with Lexa. “I also have three witnesses who swear that Finn was on a job that night. He didn’t get back to the lower city until about six hours after Myles was killed.” She paused. “Myles is getting a posthumous commendation. Perished in valiant defense of the city and her people.”

Lexa growled. “Myles raped her. He raped her and she protected herself and they would have _killed_ her for that?” She shut her eyes tightly, memories of Costia’s death flashing through her mind and agitating her even further. “Finn confessed in her place?” Her voice was rough.

Octavia nodded silently.

Gritting her teeth, Lexa started pacing. This changed… It changed _everything._ If Raven had told them this herself it would have been one thing, but they had to find out from other people… Other people.

“Where is Murphy now?”

Octavia’s eyes widened at the look on her face. “I-”

Lexa shook her head sharply. “Is he still on active duty? Did he tell anyone about what he saw that night?”

Grimacing, Octavia shook her head. “He didn’t say a word.”

Lexa stopped. “Then how did your brother acquire this information so easily?”

The other girl shrugged. “Got him shitfaced.”

Lexa paced back and forth, thoughts spinning wildly. There were so many variables in play, it was slightly overwhelming. _But if he told no one…_ “Kill him.”

 _“What?”_ Octavia sounded shocked, but Lexa was beyond caring.

“He saw his friend with an obviously unwilling woman and did nothing. He actually aided in the arrest and execution of a man who he, if not knew, at least suspected to be innocent and did _absolutely nothing_. Kill him. I’d do it myself, but a slave alone near the barracks is suspicious and I need not to be incriminated in anything just yet.”

Octavia nodded grimly. “When?”

Lexa thought for a moment before answering. “As soon as possible without drawing suspicion to yourself.” She grabbed Octavia’s arm, locking eyes with her. “And make it painful.”

Holding her gaze, Octavia bowed her head. “As you say.”

“No.”

Both women startled at the unexpected voice. Clarke had woken up without either of them noticing.

“You won’t kill him.” She held up a hand to forestall both of their objections. “You won’t kill him _yet._  I have a better idea.”

~~~

The sun beat down on her face gently, sending Clarke into an easy doze. It was so nice to be able to relax for once, to not have to worry about coups or traitors or slaves. She could just lay in the sun and be warm.

Lexa’s voice washed over her softly, soon joined faintly by Octavia’s and only soothing her further. She loved Lexa’s voice. It was so smooth, velvety but strong, like steel covered in velvet.

She loved Lexa.

It was still so nice to think that.

Octavia’s voice was nice too, but she liked Lexa’s better, and besides, Octavia’s voice wasn't as nice when it got all angry like that.

Now Lexa’s pretty voice was getting angry, lowering and getting tighter until it sounded like crushed stone. She had only heard it that tense a few times before. Why was Lexa’s pretty voice so angry?

She swam towards consciousness slowly, drawn by the tension in Lexa’s voice and getting more worried as she got more aware. Hearing Raven’s name was enough to shake off the last of the fog and start really listening.

Propping herself up on her elbows, she stayed quiet. What she heard made her burn with rage, but also peaked her interest. She had heard of the guard, Murphy. It wasn't common knowledge, but he was one of Jaha’s pet projects. The man loved to ‘rehabilitate’ criminals; he felt it was his way of giving back to the little people.

Unfortunately for the little people, Jaha was an idiot.

Hearing Lexa give the kill order made her heart sing with pride. Octavia accepted it readily, and Clarke felt a fierce surge of love for her whirlwind. She had come so far since the arena. Hearing her, seeing her in action, it made Clarke realize just how lucky she was to have won her heart for her own.

She wished she could just lay there all day and watch Lexa work, but sadly there were things to do.

“No.”

 _When this is over,_ she swore to herself, _I am going to take her away for at least a month. Just the two of us, by ourselves, with no silly distractions._

 _“_ You won't kill him. You won't kill him _yet._ I have a better idea.”

Lexa’s bloodlust was so cute.

“O, tell Bell to grab Murphy. We need to have a little chat with him.”

~~~

Two hours later, Lexa was banging her head against a marble column in the atrium.

_I am in love with a madwoman. We’re all going to die because Clarke is insane._

“Heda? Are you all right?”

Startled, Lexa jerked around and stumbled slightly. A hand caught her around the elbow, steadying her as she oriented herself. When she looked up, she found herself staring into the face of Clarke’s healer.

“Monty, yes?”

A nod.

“Why did you call me that?”

The man – boy, really, he couldn’t have been more than fifteen – gazed calmly at her. “Because that’s who you are, isn’t it? You’re Clarke’s Heda.”

Lexa blinked, incredibly off-balance. “I’m a slave, Monty, just like you.”

He shook his head. “You’re not. We both know it.” He paused, glancing down to where Lexa’s hand had slipped behind her back. “You don’t have to worry. Clarke trusts me. Do you really think I can’t tell a sword wound from the scratch of a fence post?” He grimaced. “Honestly, I wish I could fight like you do. This whole thing would be over that much sooner.”

Sighing hard, Lexa brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose. She wished Clarke would remember to tell her minor details like who knew about their extremely illegal plot to commit high treason. It would make her job much less stressful.

“You know what? I can’t deal with this right now. How do you even know what the title Heda means?” Her head was beginning to ache fiercely.

Monty smiled. “I spent a few years in Lignum when I was first enslaved. I was young enough that learning the language was a breeze.” He bowed in the fashion of Lignii warriors, clapping a fist over his heart as a salute to the Heda.

In spite of herself Lexa found her heart racing. Every child in Lignum had dreamed of receiving that salute; a Heda was one of the most revered figures in the entire culture. To see it now aimed at her, after so long spent away from her home…

She smiled. “You are more than you seem, Monty.”

The boy laughed, rising from his bow. “I take that as a compliment, Heda Lexa. Tell Clarke that her order’s in when you see her next, please?” At her nod he spun on his heel and darted through a side passage, leaving her alone in the atrium.

 _Heda Lexa._ She rather liked the sound of that.

A scuffle from her left snapped her out of her drifting thoughts. Whipping around, she only managed to catch a glimpse of white fabric before it flew around a corner and vanished. Lexa broke into a dead run after it. If whoever that was had overheard any of her conversation with Monty, she and Clarke would be dead before sundown.

Sprinting through the halls of the villa, Lexa saw her quarry come into view. It was a girl, one slightly shorter than her, with light brown hair that whipped behind her as she ran. The girl suddenly ducked through a door to her right, Lexa scrambling to follow without slamming into the doorframe.

Cursing furiously, Lexa pushed herself to speed up even more. The girl was _fast_ , so fast, but Lexa had to be faster.

She followed the girl around another corner blindly. _Just a few more seconds…_

Something slammed into her, sending her staggering back. Shaking her head, she looked forward to see what had hit her and froze.

Abby Griffin lay on the floor, seemingly dazed.

“What… Lexa?”

The girl in white slipped through a door at the end of the hallway and was gone with a glance back over her shoulder and a smirk. Lexa started forward then stopped, her head warring with her heart over what to do.

With a sigh she knelt down, common sense winning out. “Domina I am so sorry. Are you injured? Should I call for a healer?”

Abby blinked twice at her, confusion fading rapidly from her face to be replaced by fury. Lexa winced internally. The lecture she was surely about to get would be painful, doubly so with the knowledge that the girl in white had escaped her.

The girl in white. She had been good, excellent even, but she had made a mistake. She had looked back. She had looked back, and Lexa had seen her face.

_Fox._

~~~

Fifteen minutes later, Lexa rushed into Clarke’s chambers. The blonde was at her table, Octavia beside her, both of them bent over a sketch. Octavia had one hand outstretched, pointing to a spot on the paper. “-forest here, minimal guards except- Lexa? Is everything okay?” Clarke’s head shot up, obviously worried.

Lexa dragged a chair out and collapsed unceremoniously into it. “No. No, everything isn’t. Clarke, when was Fox sold to Jaha?”

Clarke cocked her head curiously. “This morning. She left a few hours ago. Why?”

Lexa groaned. “If she left a few hours ago, why was she here twenty minutes ago?”

“Maybe she was just delivering messages?” Lexa cocked an eyebrow silently and Clarke sighed. “I know, I know. O, I’m gonna need you to grab her for me too. We need to talk.”


	10. slip back in with ease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which old friends return, Lexa has emotions, and there is a tragedy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not dead not dead not dead. No one is dead.

~~~~

“Clarke, you look as lovely as ever.”

Clarke spun around, surprised by the voice behind her, and lit up when she saw who it belonged to. “Wells!” She grasped his hands and pressed a kiss to each of his cheeks. “It’s been far too long! I expected you back _months_ ago.”

Her oldest friend laughed, keeping hold of her hands. “You know I’ve been travelling through the Territories. My father had me overseeing the implementation of new military restrictions and he expected everything to go perfectly according to plan.” He rolled his eyes. “It took far longer than intended, but I could have told them to expect that.”

Looking down at himself, he grimaced. “I only got home yesterday, and after almost a year on the road I think I forgot what being clean feels like.”

Stepping back, Clarke looked him over. He wore an exquisite suit, obviously well-tailored, with amethysts glinting at his cuffs and a diamond winking from his earlobe. The months of travel hadn’t slimmed his broad shoulders at all; she actually thought they might have grown slightly, complimenting his tall frame well. Looking back up, she met his eyes and grinned. “You look the very picture of nobility, Wells. No one would ever tell you were gone.”

He bowed deeply and offered his hand, glancing up to wink at her. “May I have this dance, my lady?”

Smoothing her face back to its customary serenity, Clarke sunk into a light curtsey and placed her hand in his. “It would be my absolute pleasure, Lord Wells.”

Wells looked startled for a moment. She could understand why, really; he had been gone for a very long time, and no amount of letters could have warned him about the change in her personality.

They stepped onto the dance floor and smoothly swept into the crowd, moving with an easy familiarity that betrayed their long friendship. Whirling around the dance floor, Clarke caught glimpses of councilors, officers, and the occasional merchant, all dressed in their finest clothes. Councilor Kane believed in hosting a large and very mixed group at his parties, unlike some others. His philosophy was that the more diverse the guest list, the more different types of enjoyment there would be.

The crowd parted in just the right way for her to see her mother and Jaha. It was just a flash, lasting barely a second, but it was enough to put a strain in her smile. She looked back at Wells to see him already looking at her, sympathy in his eyes. They faltered in their dance.

“I am so very sorry I wasn’t here.” He looked away for a moment, sighing. “I know I’ve written to you, and I know there was no way for anyone to know, but I still should have been here when he- when you needed me.” He drew the both of them off to the side of the dance floor, out of the way of any collisions.

Clarke smiled bitterly. “I know. And it’s not your fault. I don’t blame you, truly I don’t.” She forced herself not to look back to her mother, not to wear her anger on her face. Wells didn’t look soothed, but also didn’t seem to realize where her thoughts had turned.

He sighed again, caught her in a quick hug, and placed a kiss to the top of her head before releasing her and forcing the worry from his face. “Come on, let’s go find ourselves something to eat. I missed real Arcamian food this last year. Can you believe they don’t eat fruit in most of the Territories? In Lignum they fed us something I think was tree bark.”

Clarke curled her arm around his and they set off across the hall. She tuned out most of what he was saying, nodding her head every so often and laughing when he did, but the majority of her thoughts were dwelling on her father’s death. Wells had left only three days before her father was arrested; when she had begged Jaha to call him back, the man had refused point-blank, telling her sternly that her hysterics were not as important as the heir to the chancellorship learning his duties. Clarke hadn’t asked again.

A hand on her elbow jolted her from her thoughts. She frowned, looking up and wondering how she hadn’t noticed them arriving at the banquet tables. _Lexa would be so upset that I let my guard down like that,_ she mused. _At least she didn’t see._

“Domina, if I may have a moment of your time.”

Clarke cursed internally. Lexa stood behind her, hands folded and head bowed. _Of course she saw._

Wells turned to look at Lexa, placing a hand at the small of Clarke’s back absently. “Who’s this?” He looked Lexa over, thankfully not lingering anywhere inappropriate. Even so, alarm bells went off in Clarke’s mind, a chorus of _mine mine mine_ that almost made it out of her mouth before she caught herself.

Smiling softly, Clarke turned to look up at Wells, deftly dislodging his hand as she moved. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lexa relax minutely and smirked to herself. “Wells, this is Lexa. She’s my body slave.” She turned back to Lexa. “Lexa, this is Wells. He’s one of my oldest friends and has finally returned to the capital from a tour of the Territories. You should get used to seeing him around the villa.”

Lexa bowed her head. “Yes, domina.”

“What was it you needed to speak to me for, Lexa?” She kept her expression perfectly innocent but dropped her voice just slightly, purring ever-so-slightly in a way that drew a faint shiver up Lexa’s spine. She knew she would answer for her teasing later, but right now she just wanted to claim Lexa no matter how subtly - and no matter that the only one who would know it was herself.

Frowning slightly, Lexa responded, “It regards the matter of the injured bird you found the other day.”

It took Clarke a second to realize what the other woman meant, but then it clicked. She placed a hand on Wells’ arm. “I am terribly sorry, but I must take care of this. Will you forgive me for leaving you so soon?”

She looked at him through her eyelashes, making sure they looked as big and apologetic as possible. Wells melted visibly. “Of course, Clarke, I understand. An injured bird? You haven’t changed a bit.” He grinned rakishly. “Except that you’ve gotten far more beautiful.”

Lexa twitched noticeably. Both Clarke and Wells ignored her.

“May I call on you for lunch? I hope you haven’t tired of my company quite yet.” Wells smiled at her, no trace of worry in his eyes. He was completely certain she would agree; the possibility of her refusal hadn’t even occurred to him. Normally that would irk Clarke, but in this case he was right.

She laughed. “You know you don’t need to ask, Wells. You’re always welcome, and besides, you haven’t told me every detail of your trip yet.”

He bowed to her, kissing her hand. “Then I shall see you tomorrow. Farewell, Clarke.”

“Farewell, Wells.”

~~~

Lexa walked in silence, feeling vaguely disgruntled. She trusted Clarke, with her life even, but something about the way she had interacted with her old friend – _Wells,_ she remembered – rubbed her the wrong way.

It probably had something to do with the casual way the man had touched her, like he had every right to put his hands all over Clarke, whether she wanted it or not. Clarke hadn’t objected, though, and Lexa found that to be all the more aggravating. Clarke was _hers._ No man, no matter how charming or how much history he shared with Clarke, could come close to replacing her in Clarke’s eyes. It just wasn’t possible. Lexa wouldn’t allow it.

A touch on her arm broke her from daydreams of extreme violence. Clarke stood in front of her with a worried expression. “Lexa, are you all right? I called your name twice, I don’t even think you realized that we’re home.”

Blinking, Lexa looked around. They were indeed home, in Clarke’s bedroom. She hadn’t even noticed them arrive, too wrapped up in her mind to pay attention.

Clarke raised an eyebrow. “You’ve never lived up to your name more, hurricane girl.” Lexa frowned, confused, and Clarke gestured vaguely. “There’s a storm in your eyes. Is everything okay?”

Lexa stood still for one moment, then two, fighting a war inside herself. Half of her trusted Clarke with everything she was and would be, but the other half screamed wordlessly at the thought of Wells’ hands on the blonde’s body. Her hands shook slightly, the only outward sign of her struggle.

“Lexa?”

She broke. Lunging forward, she grabbed Clarke and whirled her around, pressing her back against a column. She stared into her shocked eyes for an instant then dragged the blonde into a fiery kiss, pouring every bit of her love and fury out through her lips. Heat seared her skin, burning _mine_ into the soft skin she was pressed into. Clarke melted into her, an arm coming up to drape around Lexa’s neck and draw her in closer. Lexa wasn’t sure which of them moaned first, the sound swallowed before it could ever reach the air.

A crash from further inside the villa broke them apart, both women panting heavily as they stared at each other. Clarke’s eyes were nearly black, Lexa unable to look away from their darkness.

A moment passed silently, Lexa trying to force her emotions back under control. She failed miserably, and found herself asking, “Who is Wells to you?”

The second the words passed her lips she shut her eyes tightly, wishing she could catch them before Clarke heard. That was nothing like the person she wanted to be; jealous, insecure, needy… That was everything she thought she had lost years ago.

She shook herself hard and opened her eyes, meeting Clarke’s gaze steadily. The lack of judgement there didn’t quite manage to surprise her. Ten months with the woman had given her a great understanding of exactly how far her understanding could go.

Warm fingers stroked her cheek, flattening out to cup the side of her face gently.  Blue eyes met her own, the love in them calm and undeniable. Lexa smiled softly, bringing up her own hand to cover the one on her cheek. “Your oldest friend, and nothing more. I know.” She laughed softly. “I’m sorry, he touched you and I saw red.”

Clarke chuckled softly, free hand curling around Lexa’s hip. “You will never have anything to worry about, love. I love you. _You,_ and only you.”

A cough sounded from the doorway. Lexa jerked back, hand falling instinctively to the knife hidden in her sash. The sight of Bellamy lingering at the threshold eased some of the tension from her frame, but her hand stayed at her sash.

The man scratched his head awkwardly, looking as if he would rather be anywhere but in that room at that time. “I apologize for interrupting. Octavia asked me to bring you an update. May we retire to your anteroom?”

~~~

Clarke felt her skin humming as they walked. Lexa’s jealousy had been unexpected, but the outcome was absolutely worth it. She could still feel the heat of the woman’s hands burning through her dress. She shot a glance sideways, taking in the proud jawline and dark, tangled hair of her lover. Lexa was looking straight ahead, gaze focused but mind obviously going over every possible threat that Bellamy’s words could bring them.

Smiling softly, Clarke gazed forward again, opening the door to her chambers absently and waving her companions through. She knew that she should be worried about Bellamy’s news but she could do nothing without knowing what it was, and she was quite content to daydream about her lover’s lips in the meantime.

A thought struck her. She placed a hand at the small of Lexa’s back, drawing the other woman’s attention to her. “Is Raven all right?” Off Lexa’s perplexed head tilt, she continued, “You told Wells you needed to discuss something about her.”

Lexa flushed. “Raven is perfectly fine, Clarke. I believe Blake has something to tell us?”

Clarke smirked, watching how Lexa avoided her gaze and finding it utterly charming. _Maybe this is the eye of the hurricane, hmm?_

She gracefully took a seat at her table, Bellamy doing the same opposite her and Lexa taking up her customary position at her shoulder. With a sigh she shook the daydreams from her mind, focusing on the man in front of her and gesturing for him to speak.

He hesitated slightly, discomfort subtle but discernable. Clarke waited silently for him to speak, feeling Lexa’s presence behind her standing as if she were carved from marble.

Finally, after almost twenty seconds, he spoke. “Octavia sends her apologies for not being here in person, but a situation on the border has called her away.”

Clarke raised an eyebrow. “Is there something I should be aware of?” She frowned. “Why am I not aware of it already?”

Bellamy waved her concern away. “There is no way you could be aware. She was personally assigned by Indra, I don’t think the council is even aware of the situation yet.” He sighed. “There was another attack last night. The time of the attack is approximated at three hours past sundown. A single survivor managed to make it to the guard outpost at Carth. A rider was dispatched and made it back to Arkadia within two hours. Indra had Octavia leading a squad of Shadows thirty minutes later.”

He leaned forward. “I don’t know all the details, but what I do know is bad. It wasn’t just the one village wiped out; Octavia told me she heard Indra screaming outside the barracks. Three villages were burned to the ground. They’ve never been that blatant before.” Clarke poured him a drink without a word and he took it, shaking hands gripping the wineglass like a lifeline.

“One of the villages was Indra’s home village. Her entire family was there. Parents, brother, baby niece… I… How can they allow this?” A tear rolled down his cheek. He looked up at Clarke, pain radiating from every inch of him. Against her will Clarke was reminded just how deep his bond with Indra went. They might not have been blood-bound, but the dead in this village were his family all the same.

Lexa moved silently, kneeling in front of the man. Her eyes met his, understanding and fierce resolve in her gaze. “I swear to you, this will not go unpunished. I swear it.”

He looked at her for a moment, searching her eyes for _something_ , before smiling a smile that held no joy in its depths. He reached a hand out and Lexa grasped it without a moment of hesitation. “The dead will be avenged.”


	11. our glory days are numbered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is emotional catharsis, and Clarke is very gay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's start 2017 right, motherfuckers. and by right i mean MURDER.

Clarke took a deep breath, trying to think. This was not something she had planned for; she had assumed Jaha would be maintaining the pattern that had been set for years. Him changing that now had implications she was not at all happy to consider. There would be time to worry over those implications later, however. At the moment she had more immediate concerns.

Moving forward, she laid her hand on Lexa’s shoulder, drawing her attention. “I need you to send a runner- no, better you go yourself. I want a report on this as soon as humanly possible. I need the best information available, straight from Jaha’s desk if possible. You resolved the situation with Fox? We’re in no danger there?”

Lexa nodded. “She… has been taught the error of her ways. He knows, and will know, nothing.”

Clarke took a deep breath. “All right. Good.” She turned her attention to the man in front of her. “Bellamy, go be with Indra. I know how hard losing family is. Give her my deepest sympathies.”

He nodded and stood, looking her in the eye. “She’s going to want to know how you know, you’re aware.”

Smiling grimly, Clarke nodded. “Oh, I’m aware. And you’re going to tell her what good friends we’ve become, how you were so distraught when you found out that you came here for comfort. You’re also going to make sure to mention exactly how much I empathize; how familiar this feels to me. Nothing more, and not obviously, but I need the seeds laid with her. It’s far sooner than I had planned, and this is an opportunity we must take.”

Bellamy frowned, visibly upset by the callousness of her words, but nodded in acquiescence. He turned to leave but Clarke caught his arm before he could take a step. She pulled him back around, locking eyes with him. “I am truly sorry for your loss, Bellamy. If this was any other time, if I was any other person, that would be all I would say, but I need to do what’s best for my people. Please understand that.”

The man looked at her silently. Clarke was aware of Lexa shifting slightly behind her, freeing her arm in the off chance she would need to defend the blonde. Clarke didn’t move, letting Bellamy examine her as much as he needed to. He was one of her dearest friends, as well as one of her most valued lieutenants. Losing him would be devastating, and she would do almost anything to prevent that.

After a minute of silent contemplation, he heaved a sigh and relaxed, shoulders drooping. A bitter grin twisted the corner of his mouth up. “If I had to pick the one single thing about you that I know is true, it’s that you always do what’s best for us all.” He sighed again. “It’s not easy, especially when it’s my family involved, but I understand. Gods help me, I understand.”

He looked down. “I’ll talk to Indra. I think she might be more receptive than you expect, especially after… _this._ ” Glancing back up, he wavered for a moment before his expression firmed. “I trust you, Clarke.”

Clarke grasped one of his hands in her own, grabbing the back of his neck with her other and pulling his head down. She tilted her own forward and rested her forehead on his, closing her eyes. “You’re a good man, Bellamy Blake. I’ll do everything I possibly can to prove your faith well-placed.”

Lexa shifted again, closer this time. Clarke’s eyes flew open, aware of how her position would look from a romantic perspective, but there was no anger or jealousy on Lexa’s face. All she saw was empathy and sadness. The brunette stretched a hand out, pressing it to Bellamy’s shoulder in quiet support. Bellamy didn’t say anything, just covered her hand with his own.

A moment passed in silence, the three caught in a silent scene of sorrow and sympathy. Soon enough, though, a noise from the hall drew them back to reality.

Bellamy drew back, face clear and dry but with red rimming his eyes. He kept hold of both women’s hands for a moment, squeezing them before letting them go. He breathed deeply, all traces of emotion vanishing before Clarke’s eyes. She smiled sadly, recognizing the feeling of having to push grief away to deal with later.

“Go. Be with Indra. Don’t shut her out, and don’t let her shut you out.”

He smiled. “You don’t have to worry about that, Clarke. I’ve got years of experience in annoying Indra into talking.”

He turned for the door, pausing in the threshold. Looking back, he made eye contact Clarke, then Lexa. “Thank you. Both of you.”

Lexa held his gaze for a moment, eyes unreadable even to Clarke, before bowing her head slightly. “Ste yuj, Bellamy Blake.”

His smile softened, then grew. “Always, Lexa kom Trikru. Always.” He left without another word, footsteps echoing slightly off the tiled walls.

Clarke had the distinct feeling that she’d just seen the forging of a peace that would last a lifetime. She found it utterly beautiful.

~~~

Lexa kept her eyes fixed on the empty door for a moment, trying to contain her scattered emotions. Blake’s – _Bellamy’s_ , she corrected herself – situation struck a chord within her, just as Raven’s had, just as Clarke’s had all those months ago. _Clarke seems to be collecting us_ , she mused. People with no families, people scarred by tragedy beyond any they should ever have to endure. _Angry. Hopeless. Desperate. We flock to her and she gives us roots, an anchor in this godsforsaken hellhole of a city._

She smiled grimly. That was the reason she had no doubt Clarke would succeed in their little game of kings. She inspired complete loyalty in people who had nothing left to lose, who would do absolutely anything.

_Myself included._

She pivoted, turning to face Clarke. “I’ll leave for that report immediately.” Pausing, she considered something. “Someone should tell Raven about Octavia’s absence. They’ve become quite close.”

Clarke sighed, bringing a hand up to rub her face. “I’ll tell her myself. Anyone else wouldn’t be able to keep her in bed.”

Lexa snorted. Ever since Raven had put together a crude brace for her injured leg, it had been almost impossible to keep the girl from walking around. It was almost admirable, really – it would be impressive if it weren’t so annoying.

“I wish you the best of luck with that, Clarke.”

Clarke sneered elegantly at her and swept past her out of the room. Lexa rolled her eyes and followed, used to Clarke’s occasional bursts of melodrama.

Her hand fell to her side, clenching at the empty air where her sword should sit. She frowned. It was getting more and more difficult to put on the ‘good slave’ face and grovel to every empty-headed nitwit in a striped tunic that crossed her path. She wanted to be able to stand at Clarke’s side with armor on and a sword on her hip, not just cower in the background and be dismissed out of hand.

The reasons why this deception were necessary hadn’t changed at all. It was still all of their heads if they were found out, but it was getting harder every day.

She sighed, letting her hand fall away. She would keep going, until the bitter end. Clarke knew that, she knew that, everyone knew that. There was no use in brooding about things she could not change, anyway.

A swirl of white drew her attention back to Clarke, toga settling around her thighs as she draped herself over one of the couches in her rooms. “Jaha’s idiocy changes things. You know that as well as I.”

Lexa nodded.

Clarke grimaced. “Unfortunately, it means that we have to start putting plans in motion earlier than expected.” She paused. “That starts with you.”

Lexa frowned involuntarily, taking a step forward. “With me? What do you mean?” Her hand went back to her side, grasping for a blade that wasn’t there.

A black blur flew at her face, only quick reflexes and months training with Octavia keeping her from a bloody nose. She caught it without registering what it was, realization dawning only after that what she was holding was a sword.

Drawing it from the sheath, she corrected herself – it was a _beautiful_ sword, all rippled steel and razor-sharp edge. She balanced it on her finger, grinning delightedly at how perfectly it sat. She glanced up to see Clarke smiling at her.

Carefully resheathing the blade, she set it on the table beside her before launching herself at the blonde and kissing her fiercely. “This is _amazing_! I love it, truly I do, thank you.” She kissed Clarke again, drew back to repeat, “Thank you,” and returned to kissing her.

Several minutes passed without any words at all.

Finally, Lexa drew back fully, picking up the sword once more to marvel at it without rising from her place on the couch. She turned her gaze back to Clarke when a thought struck her. “Why?” Clarke furrowed her brow and Lexa shook her head. “I mean- no, actually, that’s exactly what I mean. Why give this to me? You know what the consequences of me having it are. Practice swords in a remote clearing are one thing, but this is an obviously high-quality blade in the middle of Arkadia. What’s the reasoning behind it?”

Clarke flushed. “I can’t just give my lover a gift?”

Lexa stared at her blankly.

Clarke rolled her eyes. “All right, fine, yes, it has a purpose. You have next to no combat experience. That needs to change.” She cut Lexa off before the woman could do more than open her mouth. “Training doesn’t count. There is no actual danger there, beyond a few bruises or some cuts. You have no experience beyond the Arena in a fight where the consequence of losing is death. I intend to remedy that.”

Blinking, Lexa turned her entire body to better see Clarke. It sounded like she was saying… “You intend to throw me to the wolves and hope I don’t get eaten?”

“Basically.”

She grinned at the sight of Lexa’s stunned face. “Don’t worry, my love, I think you’ll be quite pleased with what I have in mind. And remember-” She leaned forward to capture Lexa’s lips in a deep, utterly filthy kiss before leaning back abruptly. “-I have absolute faith in you.”

~~~

Lexa was fidgeting.

Lexa _hated_ fidgeting. She yanked her hand from the hilt of her new sword, clenching it into a fist at her side and devoting all her formidable willpower into staying utterly, completely still.

A moment passed.

Lexa couldn’t stop fidgeting.

She didn’t think she could be entirely blamed, honestly. Clarke had gifted her an exquisite blade, declared that she would be thrown into a combat situation that could easily end in her gruesome death, then vanished for over twelve hours. She had sent Bellamy to fetch Lexa the next morning.

_Bellamy._

The man was lucky Clarke didn’t allow her to keep a dagger under her pillow. She would quite happily have stabbed him when she woke to his face that morning.

Footsteps crunched over the dead leaves surrounding the clearing, snapping her attention back to the present and prompting her fingers to clench hard on the sword hilt. Her eyes narrowed. She could hear at least four people approaching, and two of them sounded like large men. The only large man who should know where the clearing was was Bellamy, and he had been called in by the guard unexpectedly that morning.

Octavia had as well, now that she thought about it. How odd. Lexa made a note to tell Clarke about it; unexpected guard shifts usually meant something had happened that required paperwork. Paperwork that could fall into the wrong hands. _Treasonous_ hands, even.

The footsteps slowed by the hidden entrance to the clearing and Lexa stiffened, melting back into the underbrush behind her and slowly drawing her sword. She took great care to avoid letting the steel sing against the sheath.

Blonde hair shone through the gaps in the underbrush and Lexa relaxed immediately. Clarke stepped gracefully into the clearing, looking around expectantly. Sheathing her sword, Lexa stepped out into the open.

“Clarke. What a pleasant surprise.” Her voice was as dry as the desert. She admitted it may be petty, but she hadn’t quite forgiven her lover for abandoning her so cruelly to Blake – to _Bellamy_ that morning.

Her tone didn’t seem to faze Clarke at all, though. The blonde beamed at Lexa, skipping forward and hugging her happily. “Lexaaaaa…” Clarke sang her name like a child would, stepping back and bouncing in place.

Lexa’s brow furrowed. “Are you _drunk?”_ Clarke laughed, but that really didn’t disprove her point. “Clarke, it’s barely midday.”

Clarke rolled her eyes and stilled herself. “No, grumpus, I’m excited. I have a gift for you!” She paused. “You have to swear not to overreact, though.”

Lexa blinked. “Clarke, that is not a good way to preface a gift.” She looked more closely at the woman in front of her, noting her empty hands with slight confusion.

A sly grin worked its way across Clarke’s face, transforming her from the innocent woman-child she had been pretending to be a moment before into something entirely wickeder. Lexa swallowed, feeling the heat in Clarke’s eyes rush through her entire body.

“Do you remember what I said last night? About your lack of combat experience?”

Lexa nodded wordlessly.

“Well, I’ve wanted to remedy that for quite some time now.” Clarke smirked. “I wanted to do something more than just have you walk around at night and try to look tempting to muggers, though. I wanted it to be more… meaningful, shall we say. Then I had an idea. A wonderful, devious, _perfect_ idea.” Her smirk turned slightly manic and a spark leapt in her eyes.

She swayed forward, her entire body rocking towards Lexa. Draping her arms around Lexa’s shoulders, she rested their foreheads together and let her weight rest on the brunette. Lexa steadied her easily, far more focused on what she was saying than by how touchy she was being.

“You’ve been so good for me, Lexa, doing everything I want and everything I need without ever once asking me for anything.” Clarke pouted playfully, then brushed a feather-light kiss across Lexa’s lips.

“I wanted to make that up to you.” She drew back and gestured to the clearing’s entrance. “Come on in, gentlemen.”

Monty ducked into the clearing, smiling softly at Lexa when their eyes met before circling to stand at Clarke’s side. His presence confused Lexa momentarily, but her mind went blank when she saw the man that followed the boy in.

_Him._

~~~

Clarke knew she was acting strangely. She knew it, but she couldn’t help it. There was so much adrenaline coursing through her bloodstream that she was considering it a victory that she was still managing to stay tethered to the earth.

Lexa had been getting restless in recent days; Clarke could see it clearly, even if the other woman had been doing her best to suppress it. As the months passed without any serious action, Lexa was beginning to chafe more and more at her slave role. Clarke couldn’t do anything to alleviate that particular burden, but she could do her best to help in other areas.

It had taken some work, and more money than Clarke was entirely comfortable with, but she had finally managed to track down the men who had stolen Lexa from her home all those many months before. Octavia had come to the blonde two months earlier with a delirious and drug-addicted man who had turned out to be her combat instructor from early in her army days. After almost two weeks of intensive care, the man had finally woken up and proven himself a veritable gold mine of information on the major mercenary groups.

Lincoln, as his name turned out to be, had been lured into leaving the military to join the Reapers, one of the few companies that wasn’t state-aligned. He had put out an inquiry to his contacts about the identities of the men involved with the Lignum raid and managed to get the names of eight men who had been there and still lived.

From there it had just been process of elimination. Clarke knew the most basic of details about their appearance and they had honestly just guessed at one point, but they narrowed it down to the two men standing in the clearing at that very moment.

A month after finding them, the company had arrived back in Arcam. Clarke had waited all of three days before hiring the two men.

The look on Lexa’s face confirmed their identity. It was almost frightening, a mix of shock, horror, and pain. Clarke vowed to herself that after this was over she would spend her entire life working her hardest to ensure that look never again appeared on her lover’s face.

First, however, came the main event.

Clarke shook herself free of emotion and let a sly smirk creep onto her face, the familiar drumming bloodlust beginning to beat against her skin.

“Tristan, Dax, meet Lexa.” She met Lexa’s eyes. “Make it slow.”

The men grinned at each other and moved further into the clearing, one drawing a short knife and the other not bothering with weapons at all. Lexa didn’t move for a long second, staring deep into Clarke’s eyes before giving a short nod and drawing her sword.

The man with the knife, the one Clarke thought was Tristan, sniggered at the sight of it. “You didn’t mention the slave got herself a blade, blondie.” He twirled his knife confidently through his fingers, splitting from Dax and circling around the other side of Lexa.

Clarke rolled her eyes as she responded, sarcasm dripping from every word. “It’s a recent acquisition. Will it be a problem for you two?”

Dax cracked his knuckles and spat. “Fuck no. One slave bitch with a stolen sword? I could break her in half in my sleep.” His eyes gleamed. “I feel kinda bad taking your money. This is like my fucking birthday.”

Clarke grinned, sudden and sharp. “You’re welcome to return it.”

A laugh was the only warning Lexa had before Tristan lunged, knife arcing through the air in a lazy sweep. She dodged easily, not bothering with her blade.

“Then again, maybe I’ll just take it from your corpse.”

~~~

The knife swept through the air in an arc of silver and the world slowed to a crawl. Lightning crackled through Lexa’s veins, sparks of rage-fear-joy-hate melding together into a fierce bloodlust. She dodged the knife once more, weaving to the right and bringing her sword up in a vertical cut that left a shallow slice up Tristan’s side. The man didn’t flinch, just adjusted the grip on his knife.

Lexa was faintly aware that she was grinning.

Dax sprang forward, fist shooting towards her face. Lexa swayed gently to the side and twisted, catching the arm as it sailed past her face and pulling hard, sending the taller man stumbling off-balance into the path of Tristan’s knife. He wasn’t able to pull back entirely and the knife opened a gash along Dax’s ribs.

Dax cursed and pulled back, smacking the cut hard with one hand while the other pulled a long knife from a sheath on his side. He spat again, never taking his eyes off Lexa, and hissed, “I’m gonna cut you so bad you’ll be _begging_ to die, cunt.”

From the side of the clearing Clarke _tsk_ ed. “Such language.”

Lexa just smirked before surging forward and to the left, keeping Dax between herself and Tristan as she swept her blade in a crescent slice. He tried to block the strike but obviously underestimated the force behind it, knife flying out of his hand. Growling, he backed up, but Lexa didn’t let him get far, rushing him and thrusting her sword in a vicious stab at his midsection. He managed to lunge backward and avoid being disemboweled but stumbled and fell, hitting the ground hard. Lexa grinned wildly and stabbed down _hard_ , driving her sword straight through his abdomen and into the ground below.

She didn’t have time to enjoy her victory, though, as Tristan roared and charged forward, forcing her to abandon the blade and leap out of the way. Her adrenaline surged but she beat it back. It wouldn’t do to make a mistake at this point, after all. There were debts that needed to be paid.

Tristan surged forward with a series of short, sharp strikes, forcing Lexa to duck and dodge continuously to avoid being skewered. She wove around the blade, retreating slowly as she did so, until she managed to catch his arm and strike the nerve cluster in his forearm. The blade fell from his fingers, but before it had even hit the ground he headbutted her hard, sending her staggering back.

Luckily, Tristan couldn’t reach the knife to pick it up again; unluckily, there was blood dripping into Lexa’s eyes from a cut on her forehead and her head was swimming. He took advantage of her dazed state and kicked her in the stomach, knocking her off her feet. She hit the ground hard but didn’t have time to react before he followed her to the ground, straddling her and wrapping his rough hands around her throat.

Gasping for breath, Lexa fought back a surge of panic. Octavia hadn’t taught her how to deal with this specific situation, but she knew that the only way she would survive was by staying calm and controlling her reactions.

She saw Tristan’s face through the blood in her eyes, twisted into a rictus of hate and rage. Baring her teeth, Lexa swung both hands up and clapped them as hard as she could over his ears. The angle wasn’t right for her to blow his eardrums out but the blow staggered him enough that his grip loosened minutely, enough for her to surge forward several inches and grasp his head.

The man immediately bore down again with his full strength but by that point Lexa had managed to get a solid grip on the back of his head. She could feel herself slipping, but she had enough time to drive her thumbs into his eyes as hard as she could.

Tristan screamed. Lexa felt a rush of sticky fluid gush over her hands and begin to drip down her forearms, unsettlingly warm, but she didn’t let the sensation throw her off. Tristan released her throat and reeled back, hands coming up to try and pry her own from his face but slipping in his own blood and ocular fluids. She surged up again, this time managing to knock the man off-balance and following him when he fell backwards.

When she felt her thumbs hit bone she released him, allowing him to fall sideways and curl up on the ground. She heard him begin weeping, tears falling between moans of agony as she stood and moved to pick up both fallen knives. Retrieving them, she dusted them off and turned back to Tristan. Behind them she could hear Dax coughing wetly, a foul stench telling her that she had managed to slice his bowels.

Two steps took her back to Tristan, a swift kick snapping his head back and encouraging him to uncurl from his ball. His weeping increased in volume but she took no notice of it, nudging him with her feet until he was laid out flat on his back.

By the time she had him arranged the way she wanted, he had begun begging. Promises of money, pleas for mercy, appeals to a higher power; she ignored them all.

“I wonder,” she mused out loud, “When Costia begged you for mercy as you raped her to death, what did you think? Did you find it arousing, to hear her scream and beg? Or did you not even notice – did you see her as so far beneath you that you didn’t even realize she was crying?”

Tristan didn’t answer her, not that she had particularly expected him to. “And Anya too. She screamed, I remember that. I think she might actually be the lucky one of the three of us, though. You didn’t rape her, you see, and she got to die quickly. Well. Relatively quickly.”

She sighed. “I begged too, you know. I begged you, your friends, the gods, everyone I could think of if you’d only let them live.” She kicked his legs apart slightly. “Guess it didn’t matter to you, though. You took them from me, and you laughed.” Her hands tightened around the hilt of the knives. “Never again.”

“For Costia.”

The first knife came down, stabbing hard through his groin. A strangled scream erupted from his throat, but she didn’t give him time to try and wriggle away.

“For Anya.”

The second came down into his chest, splintering bone as it drove through one of his ribs. Blood began to pool at the corner of his mouth and his screams abruptly choked off into nothingness as his vocal cords tore. She drew her own knife and knelt.

“For me.”

The last knife drove straight through his throat.

~~~

Clarke watched in awe as Lexa sat back on her heels, tilting her head towards the sky and closing her eyes. She didn’t move for a long moment, breathing steadily as her lips moved silently. Clarke didn’t make a sound, not wanting to disturb her lover from her reverie. She did her best to memorize the scene, though; Lexa, crouched over a body with a line of knives running up it, blood coating her arms to the elbows, face turned to the sky with an almost rapturous expression.

It felt almost spiritual to look at, like seeing a goddess come to earth.

Lexa brought her head back down suddenly, standing in one fluid motion and leaving her knife where it sat. She moved to where Dax was still gasping, yanking her sword from his gut in one harsh move. She brought it to his throat, preparing to drive it down and kill him quickly, before seeming to reconsider. Stabbing the blade into the dirt next to his head, she drew a smaller knife from his boot and crouched.

Clarke was utterly unprepared to see Lexa grasp his jaw, force it open, and cut his tongue from his head. The sight filled her with a rush of heat, one that knocked her off balance with its sheer force. Lexa stood back up and spat on Dax.

“Die slowly.”

The other woman drew a hand down her face in a familiar motion, looking for all the world like she was wiping away the emotions of the last few minutes. She pulled her sword from the earth and turned around, and the breath was knocked from Clarke’s lungs.

If she had thought seeing Lexa before was spiritual, she knew that the sight in front of her could only be called a religious experience. Lexa had painted her face in Tristan’s blood, a crimson handprint that swept across her sharp cheekbones and full lips, and had her naked sword in hand. It was like looking at a goddess of war on earth – she was too glorious to walk among mortals.

Clarke took five breathless steps forward and dropped to her knees in front of Lexa, gaze still riveted to her face in awe. Lexa’s brow furrowed and she shifted as if she were going to reach out to Clarke but the blonde shook her head, holding a hand up to stop her. “No, let me just- let me.” She dropped her hand.

“You’re the only person I’m ever going to kneel to, you know? The only one I will ever truly consider my equal in every way.” Lexa blinked, taken aback by Clarke’s words. The blonde smiled softly. “You’re utterly magnificent, Lexa kom Trikru, and know that no matter what the future holds, it will come with the knowledge that I love you, and will always love you. From the moment I saw you I knew you were special, and not even death can keep me from you. Whether this ends with a crown or an axe, I will fight with everything in me to stay with you.” She paused, giving Lexa a moment to wipe sudden tears from her eyes.

“I love you. To the edge of forever and beyond.”

Lexa offered a hand wordlessly. Clarke took it and allowed herself to be pulled up and into an embrace, wrapping herself around Lexa as much as she could.

Turning her head, Lexa whispered, “I love you too, you know.”

Clarke smiled. “Yeah, I know.”

 


	12. fade (always on the run)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The point of no return is getting closer, and Clarke is still very gay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my dudes i am... so sorry? life is kicking my ass?? what the fuck are you supposed to do when you graduate from uni???
> 
> 'gee i don't know victoria maybe try HANDLING YOUR SHIT LIKE AN ADULT' well look that doesn't seem to be an option now does it let's try PANIC AND FLEE FROM YOUR PROBLEMS
> 
> honestly though i think there's only one chapter left. it'll get done. slow and steady and all that shit.

A crash drew their attention to the door, and Lexa to her feet. A brunette came racing inside and was swiftly caught by Lexa, a blade pressed to the intruder’s throat. 

Clarke moved forward swiftly. “ _ Fox?” _ Her voice was incredulous. They hadn’t seen Fox in weeks, not since her last report and run-in with Abby.

The girl looked utterly distraught. Her chest heaved, her tunic was ripped, and her eyes were wild as she stared at her mistress. Clarke didn’t think the girl had even noticed the knife at her throat. A gesture had Lexa backing down, the knife vanishing into her sleeve.

Fox fell to her knees. “Domina, I am so sorry, I didn’t know he was there, I swear it. I was alone and then I wasn’t and he saw me and I ran, I ran so hard but he still almost caught me-” Her voice broke and she sobbed hard, arms coming to wrap around herself.

Watching her made Clarke’s heart ache in sympathy, but she pushed the feeling down ruthlessly. “Fox, I need you to pull yourself together  _ right now _ and tell me what is going on.” 

The snap of Clarke’s voice seemed to center Fox. The girl calmed, but stayed on her knees. “I was in Jaha’s office cleaning, like I do every day, and I was looking through his papers. I was alone, I swear it, I check twice every time! I don’t know where he came from, but all of a sudden he was right there and he was shouting.” She looked down. “I panicked. He was so angry and it scared me so badly, I just reacted.”

Clarke didn’t move, mind racing through the implications of Fox’s words. It was Lexa who knelt down, hard exterior softening as she put a hand on Fox’s shoulder. “What did you do, Fox?” 

“I threw a paperweight at him and jumped out the window.”

Clarke blinked. She could honestly say she had not expected that.

“ _ Who, _ Fox?”

The girl looked up at her helplessly, clutching at herself harder. “Wells. It was Wells. He saw me.”

The breath rushed from her lungs in one hard exhale, a feeling not unlike panic thrumming under her skin. If Wells had caught a spy in his father’s office, he wouldn’t be distracted by paperweights or unconventional exit routes. If he had seen Fox’s face, he would be… He would be…

A roar echoed through the villa, and Clarke felt as though she was rooted to the ground. A single thought was spared to thank the gods that her mother wasn’t due home for days yet before panic overtook her once more.

“ _ Clarke!” _

~~~

She had never seen Clarke like this. The woman was frozen, panic written across her face and hands visibly trembling. If Wells was in the villa, there were mere minutes before he found them.

_ We don’t have time for this. _

Closing her eyes briefly, Lexa apologized silently before pushing herself to her feet and slapping Clarke hard. The blonde blinked four times in rapid succession, hand coming to cradle her cheek, but the animal glaze left her eyes. 

“I…” Clarke sounded slightly dazed still.

“Clarke. Does Wells know who Fox is? Does he know she used to work for you?” Lexa desperately wanted to take Clarke into her arms, to reassure her that everything was going to be fine and to shelter her from the world, but there was just no  _ time. _

Shaking herself hard, Clarke straightened her back. “Yes. That’s why he’s here so soon. He didn’t follow her here, he shouldn’t have seen her come in. I’m not even sure he knows she was sold to Jaha.” She directed her next question to Fox. “Has he ever seen you there before?”

The girl nodded miserably. “I clean his quarters sometimes. He tends to talk with us as we work, there’s no way he didn’t know I worked there.”

Lexa’s mind raced. If Wells knew Fox had been sold to his father, there was no reason he should be coming for Clarke. But still he was. Why? What did he know that made him think of Clarke when he caught a spy?

Clarke suddenly seized Fox, pulling her off the ground and shoving her towards the outer door. Fox stumbled, taken aback and confused, but Clarke was relentless. “You have to go.  _ Now, _ Fox. If he sees you here we have no chance of throwing him off.” The girl hesitated for a moment before Clarke snapped, “ _ Go!” _

Fox dashed off at top speed, leaving Lexa to close the door gently behind her. She turned around, gazing upward and staring at the stone ceiling as though it held the answers to all of their problems. 

“Why is he here?”

She hadn’t meant to ask the question out loud, had meant to keep it inside with the rest of her roiling thoughts, but Clarke flinched at the sound of it and suddenly Lexa was grateful her control had slipped. Eyes narrowing, she took a single step forward. Clarke held her ground, but a sheepish expression crept onto her features.

“ _ Clarke. _ What did you  _ do. _ ”

The blonde threw her hands in the air. “I didn’t do anything! It was a single slip of the tongue, I swear. I thought I had smoothed it over and it was days ago anyway.” She frowned. “I honestly didn’t think he took notice of it, not really. I criticized Jaha while I was with Wells. It was too passionate, I admit that, but-”

The door slammed open, sending Lexa jolting forward reflexively in front of Clarke, barely keeping herself from drawing her knife again. Wells stood in the doorway, chest heaving. Strangely, his face wasn’t angry. Instead Lexa thought it was…  _ scared? _

“Tell me it isn’t true.” The man sounded distraught. “Tell me you aren’t plotting high treason.” Clarke stayed still, wide eyes fixed on his face, and he seized her by the shoulders. “ _ Tell me!” _

Lexa took a single, aborted step forward, fighting the urge to wrench the man’s hands off of her lover. Her own hands ached for her sword, only the knowledge that she truly did not understand the bond Clarke had with Wells keeping her from acting. If it were any other person, genuinely anyone else at all, Clarke would likely have ordered their deaths by this point, but not Wells. Lexa didn’t understand, she was so  _ confused _ , and it was throwing her off so  _ badly _ .

“Wells…” 

Clarke’s voice was weak, ragged, drawn out of her throat only through massive effort. She reached a hand up, seemingly not noticing the man’s rough handling, and gently cupped his face in her palm. “I’m sorry.”

His face crumpled and his hands squeezed visibly before he released Clarke to stagger back. “Oh, gods, it’s  _ true _ , it’s  _ true, _ it’s  _ treason _ , Clarke, you’re plotting  _ treason _ and you’ll be  _ killed, _ you’ll be caught and you’ll be killed,  _ why would you do this?” _ He began to sob, hoarse and terrified as his back hit the wall and he slid down blindly. “ _ Why, Clarke?”  _

Lexa felt a burst of sympathy for the man. He obviously cared for Clarke, and that she could understand. She looked at Clarke, trying to gauge what to do, but the other woman was white as a sheet and shaking as she stared at her sobbing friend. There would be no help coming from her, not for some time.

Sighing, Lexa moved forward and knelt gently at Wells’ side. She rested a hand gently on his far shoulder, her other going to tip his head towards her. Ducking her head, she caught his eyes. “I am sorry you found out this way, Wells. I know you care for Clarke, and I know you wish her safe and happy.” She smiled gently. “I do as well, and I understand your view of this. But can you truly say that Clarke would ever be happy if she lived in a world where there was a single person suffering pain that she could have prevented? Because I have only known her for a year, and I could not say that.”

Wells stared at her, his breathing easing and coming gentler, the sobs dying in his throat. That was good. That meant he was listening. Lexa turned slightly, reaching a hand out to Clarke. For a second she thought the blonde was going to ignore her, refuse her hand and continue to drown in her panic and sorrow, but then Clarke lurched forward and grabbed Lexa’s hand tightly, movements jerky and forced.

_ It’s better than nothing, _ Lexa thought, and she drew Clarke down to kneel on Wells’ other side and complete their triumvirate.

~~~

Terror.

That was all Clarke felt.

Pure terror.

She couldn’t think.

Wells was here.

Wells knew.

Wells  _ knew. _

Wells knew and he was going to hate her.

He  _ knew _ and he  _ hated _ her and he was going to  _ tell _ and she was going to be arrested and executed just like her father and- 

_ Lexa _ .

_ They’ll kill her. _

The thought was ice cold in her veins, running knife-sharp and clear as diamonds through her in an instant.

_ They’ll take her and they’ll lock her away and once they’ve hurt her as much as someone can hurt a human being, they’ll parade her through the square and put her head on a spike. _

That was  _ unacceptable. _

Nothing could hurt Lexa. Not ever. Not if she could prevent it.

Clarke felt her heartbeat slow from its frantic pounding.

One beat.

Another.

Faintly, she realized that Lexa had a hand held out.

What did she want?

_ Oh. _

_ All right. _

She grabbed Lexa’s hand and let herself be pulled down.

The movement knocked her from the light trance she had fallen into.

Everything came rushing back.

_ Lexa. _

_ Protect Lexa. _

**_Mine._ **

~~~

Lexa drew Clarke down, taking care not to startle her. She had never seen the other woman like this, and it was alarming her. She smiled once more at Wells, then turned to look at Clarke.

The expression on her face was… not what she expected.

The shock and fear from earlier had vanished, replaced with determination burning icy cold in her eyes. This was the face Clarke wore when she ordered enemies killed, and that frightened Lexa more than her near-hysteria had just moments before.

Because this was  _ Wells _ . Lexa had only known the man a few months, and quite honestly she hadn’t particularly liked him, but she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was one of the few people Clarke truly treasured. He was more family than her own mother was.

And now she was preparing to- what?  _ Kill  _ him?

That would break her.

Oh, maybe not in the moment. Maybe she would be able to justify it to herself.  _ He would have told his father _ , Lexa could see Clarke saying. _ He would have ruined us, destroyed what we’ve been working so hard to build. _

Pretty words, and not completely untrue, but wasn’t that risk present in all of them? In sturdy Bellamy, so close to the guard? In fiery Octavia, even closer in some ways? Could she not say that about clever Raven, kind Monty? 

Could she not say that about Lexa herself?

There were risks in all of them. They possessed, each and every one of them, the capability to bring their little conspiracy tumbling down.

And at the end of it all, when Clarke sat on a throne won with the blood and tears of those she loved, there would be no justifications.

There would only be regrets.

This was a turning point. What kind of ruler would Clarke be?

Would she emerge victorious, drenched in the blood of friend and foe alike? Would she rule through power, through fear, cutting down anyone who might stand the slightest threat to her reign? 

What would they call this mad queen, Lexa wondered. Would they call her tyrant? Savage? Would Lexa’s own people call her Wanheda, the Commander of Death, She Who Rides Alone Through Blood?

Or maybe, just maybe, she could be what was needed. A just queen - not kind, not yet, but just. One who knew what mercy was, one who could trust her people. Wanheda, the Lonely Mare Who Comes at Dusk. Bringer of death, yes, but more than that a healer. 

If Clarke were alone there would only be one path, but just maybe…

Lexa placed a hand on Clarke’s shoulder, shifting slightly to put herself in between Clarke and Wells.

“No, Clarke. Not him.”

~~~

The calm Clarke felt was a marked contrast to the tumult that had raged through her mind seconds before. It settled over her like a cloak, a suit of armor, a  _ crown _ .

_ It has to be done. _

_ He’ll ruin us all. _

_ He’ll hurt Lexa. _

She took a moment to look him over. Her oldest friend, slumped against a wall, tears streaming down his face. He looked agonized, and a distant part of Clarke felt warm seeing how much this tore him up, how much he truly didn’t want to bring harm to her.

_ That won’t stop him, not as loyal as he is. _

_ Only one thing will. _

She opened her mouth, ready to give the order, ready to

_ sell her soul _

eliminate the threat, but Lexa’s hand on her arm took her by surprise. Clarke closed her mouth and looked at the brunette.

The solemn expression she wore was typical for Lexa, but there was a hint of something behind the stoicism that took her aback. It - Fear? Pity? Hope? - was an expression Clarke had never seen like this, and especially not in a situation like this. 

Couldn’t she see this was the only way?

“No, Clarke. Not him.”

...

_ What? _

Clarke blinked at Lexa, utterly uncomprehending. 

“I-  _ what?” _ She jerked backwards sharply, almost toppling over entirely.

Lexa didn’t move, just kept those solemn eyes trained on her. “I will kill your enemies, Clarke. I will make the streets run red with the blood of your foes and I will salt the earth above their graves if it furthers your goals, but I will not kill your loved ones.” She didn’t move but to Clarke it felt as if the ground tilted as she continued. “And more than that, I will not allow you to do so either.”

Clarke couldn’t respond. She was lost for words, utterly unable to do more than stare helplessly. For all the outcomes she had envisioned for this horrible, horrible confrontation, this was one she never would have imagined.

Lexa continued, steady as stone and implacable as the tides. “I believe in you and I believe in what we are doing, but I will not stand by and let you destroy yourself.” She gestured to Wells. “Killing him would destroy you, Clarke. It would rip everything good from you and leave a shell in its wake. What kind of person would you be then, if you sacrificed your family for your own goals?”

~~~

The shadow of Abby hung in the air between them, unspoken but very much recognized. Clarke flinched, eyes closing tightly and that diamond expression twisting into agony. It hurt Lexa to see her lover suffer, but there were some pains that were necessary for healing.

“I…” Clarke’s voice was soft, sad, pained. “He’ll… They’ll kill you, Lex.” She opened her eyes, gazing up at Lexa with love and agony shining through in equal measure. “I can’t let anyone hurt you. I won’t.”

Lexa smiled softly at her, moving her hand from Clarke’s arm to her cheek. “I know you won’t, my love, but this is not the way.”

Clarke covered the hand on her cheek with one of her own, searching Lexa’s face for… something. Lexa wasn’t sure what it was, but whatever it was, she seemed to find it. She deflated, eyes dropping and hand falling away. She looked… defeated, Lexa thought, and it was such a foreign look on the other woman that it twisted something inside Lexa.

She reached out. “Clarke, I-”

“Explain.”

Lexa twitched back, taken by surprise. She had forgotten about Wells in her hyperfocus on Clarke, and the man looked… not angry, but not calm either.

He leveled them both with an intense gaze, switching back and forth between them for a moment before his eyes settled on Clarke. She kept her head down, refusing to meet his eyes, but he just frowned and said, “Clarke. Look at me.”

She hesitated.

Wells sighed, some of the steel fading from his eyes. Some, but not all. Lexa could see the faintest hint of hurt under the righteous anger, a trace of confused betrayal he was trying to hide behind stoicism. She could understand, she really could, and Clarke’s shame could only go so far in absolving her. Sighing, she drew back from Clarke and stood.

“Talk to him, Clarke.” Her words came out soft but firm, clearly an order. 

Clarke didn’t protest, shrinking into herself for a second before she drew in a breath. Tentatively she raised her head, meeting Wells’ stern stare with her own. She opened her mouth, but shut it almost immediately. 

Sucking in a long breath, Clarke rocked back on her heels, rolling her shoulders back and straightening her spine. Pride bloomed in Lexa’s bones, seeing her lover willing to defend herself and her actions to her oldest friend.

Wells straightened as well, likely recognizing the set of Clarke’s shoulders. He hesitated, then softened. “Please, Clarke, I just want to understand.”

Clarke’s jaw clenched. “Your father is corrupt and is killing people for profit.”

Wells’ eyes widened. 

Clarke set her jaw stubbornly.

Lexa dropped her face into her hands.

~~~

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Clarke knew that she wasn’t handling this well at all. The rest of her mind was flooded with a combination of panic, pride, and desperation, launching her directly into an adrenaline-fuelled fight or flight mindset.

She raised her chin proudly, refusing to show any of the thousand thoughts racing through her mind, the heady whirl of fearpridelovehopeagony that rushed through her blood. If, gods willing, Wells was willing to listen, she would be willing to talk.

He was just staring at her at the moment, though. Her previous words seemed to have stunned him speechless. She didn’t fully blame him. The whiplash of her emotions was hard enough to handle herself; seeing them in combination with her combative words must be truly jarring.

She couldn’t stop herself; his silence scared her and she needed to say something, anything at all to break it. “What, Wells? Nothing to say? Or did you already know and just not care about the  _ hundreds of innocent people he’s _ -”

“ _ Clarke!” _

Wells’ shout interrupted her rapidly escalating tirade. Clarke shut her mouth abruptly, shame washing over her as she realized how much of her own fear she was taking out on him. It was too late to take her words back, though, and Wells was beginning to look angry.

He inhaled in a short burst, blowing it out through his nose sharply. “Tell me what is going on.” He held up a finger when Clarke opened her mouth again. “ _ Simply. _ The facts. Give me the facts for now, and later you can embellish.” He sighed. “Just… tell me what’s going on, Clarke. Please.”

Clarke blinked at him, all of her anger blown away in the face of Wells’ unexpected calm. She had anticipated shouting, fury, a rush to tell the guard, to protect his father. She hadn’t expected…

_ Loyalty _ , she realized. She hadn’t expected loyalty from her best friend, and that realization shamed her more than anything she had ever felt before.

She eased back,, gesturing them towards her rooms. “We shouldn’t have this conversation out here. Come, we’ll talk.” Clarke glanced backwards, catching Lexa’s eye and nodding towards the room. Lexa dipped her head slightly and glided away silently, vanishing into a side passage. Clarke relaxed slightly, knowing the other woman would have her suite free of any possible eavesdroppers by the time she arrived with Wells.

Wells… She glanced at him, walking silently by her side. He looked troubled, a crease between his brows that hadn’t been there when he left for the territories. Was that solely because of her, or had he met other horrors in his travels that she knew nothing of?

Had she truly been that selfish, that she hadn’t even noticed her brother in all but blood was suffering?

Yes. She had.

“I’m sorry, Wells.” She wanted to drop her gaze, but forced herself to keep looking at him. She would not take the coward’s way out, not this time.

He looked at her steadily. “I won’t say it’s okay, not yet. You were- what, going to kill me? Have me killed?” He laughed humorlessly. “That’s not something I can just forgive.”

Wells took her arm gently, swinging her to face him as he stopped walking. “But, Clarke, you need to realize - I can  _ understand. _ This isn’t an all-or-nothing situation. I’m not going to run screaming the second you look away. All right? I’m here with you and I’m going to stay here until you want me gone.”

Clarke looked at him, saw the sincerity and the pain in his dark eyes, and promptly burst into tears. She hugged him for a very long time then drew back, wiped her face, and dragged him into her rooms.

~~~

“Are you completely sure of this?” Wells had his head in his hands, fingers gripping to the point of pain. Lexa could see that his knuckles were white and though she wanted to comfort him, she knew there was nothing she could say that would hurt him any less.

Instead she simply nodded, passing him the sheaf of papers they had copied over months and months of spying. “Without any doubt.”

Wells choked out a laugh, one that was awful in its lack of humor. “Why didn’t I see it? All I ever saw was the benevolent leader, trying to do what was right for the people.” He dropped his hands, staring desolately at the table. “I knew he was… distant, and he could be casually cruel, but I had no idea he would…”

Clarke took his hand. “None of us did. I never would have believed it before- before my father.” Wells flinched, but Clarke shook her head before he could say anything. “It wasn’t your fault. You weren’t even here, there was nothing you could have done.”

A fist struck the table, startling Lexa into grasping for a sword she wasn’t wearing. Clarke didn’t even flinch, just watched Wells with sympathy in her eyes. 

He struck the table once more, weaker than before, then slumped. Clarke shifted her chair to be next to him and wrapped him up in a hug, but he didn’t respond. She closed her eyes, hooking her chin over his shoulder and sighing deeply. 

Lexa felt for the both of them; one dealing with a betrayal of the worst sort, the other responsible for shattering her friend’s view of his greatest hero. The deep history between them was palpable, though, and it was making her feel a voyeur of the worst sort. She took a step back, positioning herself with a view of the entrances to the room, and pulled her knife out of her sleeve. She focused on making it dance in her hands, trying to give the other two as much privacy as she was able.

~~~

Clarke felt like crying and like murder at the same time. She could see the visceral agony in Wells, but at the same time a part of her mind was whispering how they didn’t have time to coddle him. She cast a glance at Lexa, surprised to see her so obviously ignoring them. It was kind of her to try and give them space, but Clarke needed her help to snap Wells out of his spiral.

Widening her eyes, Clarke tried to catch Lexa’s attention without attracting Wells’. It took several seconds, but she managed it eventually. She flicked her eyes at Wells, then at the hourglass in the corner. Lexa frowned at her but returned to the table, drawing a chair back and letting the legs drag on the stone floor. Wells didn’t respond, so Lexa settled herself into the chair and placed her elbows on the table. “I empathize with your pain, but right now we need to decide how we will move forward.”

Wells pushed himself up, red-rimmed eyes coming up to glare at her. “I just found out my father is a corrupt tyrant who is profiting off the death of his people! Can you not spare me time to grieve?”

Clarke flinched guiltily, but Lexa was unmoved. “No. You need to make a choice, Wells Jaha, and you need to make it now.” She steepled her fingers together. “On one side, you father. The ruler of this land, though not a just ruler. A man willing to condemn hundreds, if not thousands, of innocent people to death for his own profit. On the other, your best friend, who is plotting a very illegal coup, but one with the best interests of all of Arcam’s people in mind, not just the rich and powerful.”

Leaning forward, her gaze intensified. “Now is the time, Wells Jaha. What kind of man will you be?”

Clarke felt her blood begin to race. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears, nearly deafening her to the outside world. They had spent nearly two hours laying the whole thing out for Wells, from the discovery of Jaha’s treachery to the bloody, horrible deaths that they had already caused. There was nothing more she could say that would sway him. All she could do was have faith.

Wells covered his eyes with one long hand. He was completely still for a long moment, then sighed and leaned forward. “You swear that what you’re doing is what you think is just? Not only for you, but for all the others my father is hurting.”

Clarke nodded. “On my life.” She paused. “On  _ Lexa’s  _ life.”

“Why is it that I always get into these kind of situations with you?” He shook his head wryly. “Only you, Clarke.” He stretched a hand out and she took it between her own. “I’m with you. Tell me how I can help and I will do my utmost.” 

The breath left her in one long burst and she sagged forward, too relieved to speak. She had been so afraid that he would turn on her, see his duty as lying with the crown and not his own sense of justice. As his gentle hands came to clasp her arms, supporting her and comforting her in equal measure, she realized the depth of her gratitude that that had not come to pass. Having him as an enemy would have wounded her deeply, and causing his death would have broken something inside of her.

_ Lexa was right, _ she thought.  _ As always. _

Her lover’s hand came to rest on her back, joining Wells’ attempt to comfort her, and she surged upwards, engulfing Wells in a massive hug and tugging Lexa in to join. She caught a glimpse of Lexa’s startled expression before it melted into a soft sort of contentment that Clarke rarely got to witness. 

The tears came suddenly, a sob ripping from her chest so abruptly it startled her. She pulled a hand free to cover her face, trying fruitlessly to hide the evidence of her whiplash emotions. Neither Wells nor Lexa would let her go, though, one petting her hair back from her face and the other drawing her into a tight embrace.

Wells chuckled wryly, right next to her ear. “This has been quite an eventful evening, I must say.” Clarke choked out a wet laugh, tears clogging her throat. She could hear the smile in his voice as he continued. “What do you say we three clean ourselves up and sit down for a meal? I believe we have quite a lot to talk about.”

Clarke drew back and nodded gratefully. She felt the hot, puffy skin around her eyes and grimaced, trying in vain to wipe the worst of it away. Lexa rose to her feet gracefully, extending a hand to pull Clarke to her feet as Wells straightened up next to her. 

She took Wells by the hand and pulled him towards the bathroom adjoining her room, Lexa leaving the room on light feet. They cleaned up in silence, cool water soothing the heat in her face and washing the salt trails away.

When they returned to the main chamber Lexa had returned, a timid kitchen slave Clarke didn’t recognize trailing her. Both women were loaded down with dishes, though Clarke would be willing to bet that Lexa was carrying the bulk of the weight. She smiled softly; her lover’s kindnesses were quiet, yes, but they were true.

Lexa met her eyes and smiled softly, bowing her head. “This is Charlotte, domina. She arrived three days ago and has been learning her way since.” 

Fixing a warm smile on her face, Clarke forced down the rage at seeing such a young girl a slave, not wanting to frighten her. She swept forward, restraining herself from taking the girl’s hands. “Hello, Charlotte. Welcome to the villa. I’m sure you’ll be a credit to the household. If there’s anything you need, please do tell Lexa or myself.” She slid her gaze sideways, unsure of how Wells would behave around the girl.

Her worry was unnecessary. Wells merely inclined his head at the girl, warm smile of his own shining on his handsome face. Charlotte looked vaguely nervous, but her voice was impressively steady as she replied. “Thank you, domina, I will work my hardest. Is there anything else you require?”

Clarke shook her head and Lexa swept the trays from the girl’s hands, speaking gently as she did. “That will be all, Charlotte. I will find you later to see how you are adjusting.” The girl fled without a word.

“So young…” Wells’ words were quiet, sadness laced through his voice.

Lexa nodded grimly. “The younger ones are more valuable; easier to  _ train _ .” She spat the word, brows furrowing angrily.

“And that is why we’re doing this,” Clarke interjected. “For all the little girls out there who don’t have a childhood. For every single person who has been harmed by these atrocities they call laws.” She clenched her jaw briefly, feeling the threat of tears burn once more in her eyes. “I won’t let  _ my people _ be victimized by traitors!”

Both Lexa and Wells started towards her, but Wells got there first, pulling her into a hug that engulfed her entire body. “ _ We _ won’t let them. You’re not alone, Clarke.” 

Lexa said nothing, but the hand that rested gently on Clarke’s back said everything. 


End file.
